Give me mine angle, we'll to th' river: there, My music playing far off, I will betray Tawny-finned fishes. My bended hook shall pierce Their slimy jaws; and as I draw them up, I'll think them every one an Antony, And say, 'Ah, ha! are caught!'

Preferred three hours quicker over one moment late.

I love you more than word can wield the matter, Dearer than eye-sight, space and liberty

Better three hours too soon, than one hour to late.

Sin will pluck on sin.

I do desire we may be better strangers.

Truly thou art damned, like an ill-roasted egg, all on one side.