Do you not know I am a woman? when I think, I must speak.

See where she comes apparelled like the spring.

Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind, And therefore is winged Cupid painted blind.

But shall we wear these glories for a day? Or shall they last, and we rejoice in them?

Why, friends, you go to do you know not what: Wherein hath Caesar thus deserved your loves? Alas, you know not: I must tell you then: You have forgot the will I told you of. . . . . Here is the will, and under Caesar's seal. To every Roman citizen he gives, To every several man, seventy-five drachmas. . . . . Moreover, he hath left you all his walks, His private arbours and new-planted orchards, On this side Tiber; he hath left them you, And to your heirs for ever, common pleasures, To walk abroad, and recreate yourselves. Here was a Caesar! when comes such another?

Ha. "Against my will I am sent to bid you come into dinner." There's a double meaning in that. -Benedick (Much Ado)

In religion, What damned error but some sober brow Will bless it, and approve it with a text, Hiding the grossness with fair ornament?