Give every man thy ear, but few thy voice.
You take my life when you do take the means whereby I live
Die for adultery! No: The wren goes to't, and the small gilded fly does lecher in my sight
The rain, it raineth every day.
So are you to my thoughts as food to life, or as sweet seasoned showers are to the ground.
The earth, that is nature's mother, is her tomb.