You had measured how long a fool you were upon the ground.
All the perfumes of Arabia will not sweeten this little hand! Oh, oh, oh!
Making night hideous.
Ay, but to die, and go we know not where.
A woman would run through fire and water for such a kind heart.
Teach me, dear creature, how to think and speak; Lay open to my earthy-gross conceit, Smother'd in errors, feeble, shallow, weak, The folded meaning of your words' deceit.