The elephant hath joints, but none for courtesy; his legs are legs for necessity, not for flexure.
Who is it can read a woman?
what cannot be saved when fate takes, patience her injury a mockery makes
Thou ever young, fresh, lov'd, and delicate wooer, whose blush doth thaw the consecrated snow
A great cause of the night is lack of the sun.
Go, write it in a martial hand; be curst and brief; it is no matter how witty, so it be eloquent and fun of invention: taunt him with the licence of ink: if thou thou'st him some thrice, it shall not be amiss; and as many lies as will lie in thy shee.