Let us be Diana's foresters, gentlemen of the shade, minions of the moon
Nature, as it grows again toward earth, is fashioned for the journey, dull and heavy.
O, that our fathers would applause our loves, To seal our happiness with hteir consents!
She is a woman, therefore to be won.
Slander lives upon succession, For ever housed where it gets possession.
Time's the king of men; he's both their parent, and he is their grave, and gives them what he will, not what they crave.