As you from crimes would pardon'd be, Let your indulgence set me free.

I will live in thy heart, die in thy lap, and be buried in thy eyes—and moreover, I will go with thee to thy uncle’s.

To climb steep hills requires a slow pace at first.

Right joyous are we to behold your face, Most worthy brother England; fairly met!

So now I have confessed that he is thine, And I my self am mortgaged to thy will, My self I'll forfeit, so that other mine, Thou wilt restore to be my comfort still.

Don't waste your love on somebody, who doesn't value it.

The world must be peopled!