There is no such sport as sport by sport o'erthrown.
Not stepping over the bounds of modesty.
Love will not be spurred to what it loathes
Help, master, help! here's a fish hangs in the net, like a poor man's right in the law; 'twill hardly come out.
I understand a fury in your words But not your words.
This feather stirs; she lives! if it be so, it is a chance which does redeem all sorrows that ever I have felt.