a wild dedication of yourselves To undiscovered waters, undreamed shores.

Now, by the world, it is a lusty wench; I love her ten times more than e'er I did: O, how I long to have some chat with her!

They are hare-brain'd slaves.

Grief fills the room up of my absent child, Lies in his bed, walks up and down with me, Puts on his pretty look, repeats his words, Remembers me of his gracious parts, Stuffs out his vacant garments with his form

Praise us as we are tasted, allow us as we prove.

He that is robbed, not wanting what is stolen, him not know t, and he's not robbed at all.

Perseverance... keeps honor bright: to have done, is to hang quite out of fashion, like a rusty nail in monumental mockery.