What? do I love her, that I desire to hear her speak again, and feast upon her eyes

For this, be sure, tonight thou shalt have cramps, Side-stitches that shall pen thy breath up. Urchins Shall forth at vast of night that they may work All exercise on thee. Thou shalt be pinched As thick as honeycomb, each pinch more stinging Than bees that made 'em.

Life's uncertain voyage.

This fellow pecks up wit, as pigeons peas; And utters it again when God doth please: He is wit's pedler; and retails his wares.

And where two raging fires meet together, they do consume the thing that feeds their fury.

I'll have no husband, if you be not he.

No, no, I am but shadow of myself: You are deceived, my substance is not here.