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.

My heart is ever at your service.

We are time's subjects, and time bids be gone.

Where every something, being blent together turns to a wild of nothing.

Love for thy love , and hand for hand I give.

Golden lads and girls all must as chimney sweepers come to dust.

We are ready to try our fortunes to the last man.