I cannot be a man with wishing, therefore I will die a woman with grieving.

I have set my life upon a cast, And I will stand the hazard of the die.

Cupid is a knavish lad, Thus to make poor females mad.

But men may construe things after their fashion, Clean from the purpose of the things themselves.

Oh, injurious love, that respites me a life, whose very comfort is still a dying horror

Tears water our growth.

Ingratitude is monstrous.