You dull ass will not mend his pace with beating.
My affection hath an unknown bottom, like the Bay of Portugal.
Methinks you are my glass, and not my brother: I see by you I am a sweet-faced youth.
Grief best is pleased with grief's society.
Affection, mistress of passion, sways it to the mood of what it likes or loathes.
To pore upon a book, to seek the light of truth.