...lest too light winning make the prize light.

I was born free as Caesar; so were you

With these shreds They vented their complainings, which being answered And a petition granted them, a strange one, To break the heart of generosity, And make bold power look pale, they threw their caps As they would hang them on the horns o' th' moon, Shouting their emulation.

Would I were in an alehouse in London.

Wooing, wedding, and repenting is as a Scotch jig, a measure, and a cinque-pace: the first suit is hot and hasty like a Scotch jig--and full as fantastical; the wedding, mannerly modest, as a measure, full of state and ancientry; and then comes repentance and with his bad legs falls into the cinque-pace faster and faster, till he sink into his grave.

She's beautiful, and therefore to be wooed; She is a woman, therefore to be won.

Is love a tender thing? It is too rough, too rude, too boisterous, and it pricks like thorn.