Love's not love When it is mingled with regards that stand Aloof from th' entire point.

How quickly nature falls into revolt When gold becomes her object! For this the foolish over-careful fathers Have broke their sleep with thoughts, their brains with care, Their bones with industry.

Come, woo me, woo me, for now I am in a holiday humor, and like enough to consent.

My chastity's the jewel of our house, bequeathed down from many ancestors.

The third day comes a frost, a killing frost.

Good morrow, 'tis Saint Valentine's Day, All in the morn betime, And I a maid at your window, To be your valentine.

Some kinds of baseness are nobly undergone.