What early tongue so sweet saluteth me?

Nay, do not think I flatter. For what advancement may I hope from thee, That no revenue hast but thy good spirits To feed and clothe thee? Why should the poor be flattered?

A cup of hot wine with not a drop of allaying Tiber in 't.

Graze on my lips; and if those hills be dry, stray lower, where the pleasant fountains lie.

God, the best maker of all marriages, Combine your hearts into one.

O! that a man might know The end of this day's business, ere it come; But it sufficeth that the day will end, And then the end is known.

I understand thy kisses, and thou mine, And that's a feeling disputation.