God, the best maker of all marriages, Combine your hearts into one.
Et tu Brute! (You too, Brutus!)
All the perfumes of Arabia will not sweeten this little hand! Oh, oh, oh!
O, that our fathers would applause our loves, To seal our happiness with hteir consents!
And be these juggling friends no more believ'd, That palter with us in a double sense; That keep the word of promise to our ear And break it to our hope.
As there comes light from heaven and words from breath, As there is sense in truth and truth in virtue