To unpathed waters, undreamed shores.
The more pity, that fools may not speak wisely what wise men do foolishly.
Romans, countrymen, and lovers, hear me for my cause, and be silent, that you may hear.
All thy vexations Were but my trials of thy love, and thou Hast strangely stood the test; here, afore heaven, I ratify this my rich gift.
Speak on, but be not over-tedious.
Under the greenwood tree, Who loves to lie with me And tune his merry note, Unto the sweet bird's throat; Come hither, come hither, come hither. Here shall he see No enemy But winter and rough weather.