Sweet mercy is nobility's true badge.

Virtue itself turns vice, being misapplied, And vice sometime by action dignified.

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

Her blood is settled, and her joints are stiff; Life and these lips have long been separated: Death lies on her like an untimely frost Upon the sweetest flower of all the field.

He took the bride about the neck and kissed her lips with such a clamorous smack that at the parting all the church did echo.

And yet, by heaven, I think my love as rare As any she belied with false compare.

Therefore another prologue must tell he is not a lion