You are a lover. Borrow Cupid's wings and soar with them above a common bound.

Exceeds man's might: that dwells with the gods above.

Speak the speech, I pray you, as I pronounc'd it to you, trippingly on the tongue.

Things are often spoke and seldom meant.

This royal throne of kings, this sceptered isle, This earth of majesty, this seat of Mars, This other Eden, demi-paradise, This fortress built by Nature for herself Against infection and the hand of war, This happy breed of men, this little world, This precious stone set in the silver sea, Which serves it in the office of a wall Or as a moat defensive to a house, Against the envy of less happier lands,--This blessed plot, this earth, this realm, this England.

Slander, whose whisper over the world's diameter, as level as the cannon to its blank, transports its poisoned shot.

And, if you love me, as I think you do, let's kiss and part, for we have much to do