Scratching could not make it worse, an't were such a face as yours were.

But, soft! what light through yonder window breaks? It is the east, and Juliet is the sun. Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon, Who is already sick and pale with grief, That thou, her maid, art far more fair than she. Be not her maid, since she is envious; Her vestal livery is but sick and green And none but fools do wear it; cast it off. It is my lady, O, it is my love! Oh, that she knew she were!

Here is a rural fellow that will not be denied your Highness' presence: he brings you figs.

The very substance of the ambitious is merely the shadow of a dream.

I am not of that feather, to shake off my friend when he must need me

God, the best maker of all marriages, Combine your hearts into one.

Is man no more than this? Consider him well. Thou ow'st the worm no silk, the beast no hide, the sheep no wool, the cat no perfume. Here's three on's are sophisticated. Thou art the thing itself; unaccommodated man is no more than such a poor, bare, forked animal as thou art.