I am a man more sinned against than sinning

For now they kill me with a living death.

Demand me nothing: what you know, you know.

The man that hath no music in himself, Nor is not moved with concord of sweet sounds, is fit for treasons, stratagems and spoils.

Remembrance of things past.

Well, I'll repent, and that suddenly, while I am in some liking; I shall be out of heart shortly, and then I shall have no strength to repent.

Now, by the world, it is a lusty wench; I love her ten times more than e'er I did: O, how I long to have some chat with her!