What though care killed a cat, thou hast mettle enough in thee to kill care.

Could beauty, my lord, have better commerce than with honesty?

I will not be sworn but love may transform me to an oyster

And since you know you cannot see yourself, so well as by reflection, I, your glass, will modestly discover to yourself, that of yourself which you yet know not of.

Then happy I that love and am beloved, where I may not remove nor be removed.

Let him smell his way to Dover!

Constant you are, But yet a woman; and for secrecy, No lady closer; for I well believe Thou wilt not utter what thou dost not know.