I cannot be a man with wishing, therefore I will die a woman with grieving.
He's all my exercise, my mirth, my matter.
If I can catch him once upon the hip, I will feed fat the ancient grudge I bear him.
Like as the waves make towards the pebbl'd shore, so do our minutes, hasten to their end.
They love least that let men know their loves.
In law, what plea so tainted and corrupts, but being seasoned with a gracious voice obscures the show of evil.