Lord, I could not endure a husband with a beard on his face! I had rather lie in the woolen.

I should think this a gull, but that the white-bearded fellow speaks it; knavery cannot, sure, hide himself in such reverence.

Is this the generation of love? Hot blood, hot thoughts and hot deeds? Why, they are vipers. Is love a generation of vipers?

Love's gentle spring doth always fresh remain.

Thy head is as full of quarrels as an egg is full of meat, and yet thy head hath been beaten as addle as an egg for quarrelling.

How is it that the clouds still hang on you?

Truly, I would not hang a dog by my will, much more a man who hath any honesty in him.