'Tis brief, my lord...as woman's love.

We will draw the curtain and show you the picture.

Assume a virtue, if you have it not. That monster, custom, who all sense doth eat; Of habits devil, is angel yet in this.

...too much sadness hath congealed your blood,And melancholy is the nurse of frenzy.

O! that a man might know The end of this day's business, ere it come; But it sufficeth that the day will end, And then the end is known.

Care I for the limb, the thews, the stature, bulk, and big assemblance of a man! Give me the spirit.

I will make a Star-chamber matter of it.