In springtime, the only pretty ring time Birds sing, hey ding A-ding, a-ding Sweet lovers love the spring—

O thou invisible spirit of wine, if thou has no name to be known by, let us call thee devil....O God, that men should put an enemy in their mouths to steal away their brains! that we should, with joy, pleasance revel and applause, transform ourselves into beasts!

Suffer love; a good epithet! I do suffer love, indeed, for I love thee against my will.

Is this government of Britain's Isle, and this the royalty of Albion's King?

I pardon him, as God shall pardon me.

A Devil, a born Devil on whose nature, nurture can never stick, on whom my pain, humanly taken, all lost, quite lost.

The weakest kind of fruit drops earliest to the ground.