My nature is subdued to what it works in, like the dyer's hand.

Sit by my side, and let the world slip: we shall ne'er be younger.

Kiss me, Kate, we shall be married o'Sunday

You are not wood, you are not stones, but men.

Now, my masters, happy man be his dole, say I; every man to his business.

Their savage eyes turned to a modest gaze by the sweet power of music.

Did my heart love till now? forswear it, sight! For I ne'er saw true beauty till this night.