Love sought is good, but given unsought, is better.

But we have reason to cool our raging motions, our carnal stings, our unbitted lusts; whereof I take this that you call love to bea sect or scion.... It is merely a lust of the blood and a permission of the will.

You lack the season of all natures, sleep.

Obey thy parents, keep thy word justly; swear not; commit not with man's sworn spouse; set not thy sweet heart on proud array. * * * Keep thy foot out of brothels, thy pen from lenders' books.

Aand in the end, Having my freedom, boast of nothing else But that I was a journeyman to grief?

A plague of sighing and grief! It blows a man up like a bladder.

Let me be that I am and seek not to alter me.