Dissembling courtesy! How fine this tyrant can trickle when she wounds!

What the great ones do, the less will prattle of

A sad tale's best for winter. I have one of sprites and goblins.

Never anything can be amiss, when simpleness and duty tender it.

This is the very ecstasy of love.

Now would I give a thousand furlongs of sea for an acre of barren ground.

So now I have confessed that he is thine, And I my self am mortgaged to thy will, My self I'll forfeit, so that other mine, Thou wilt restore to be my comfort still.