Now, neighbor confines, purge you of your scum! Have you a ruffian that will swear, drink, dance, revel the night, rob, murder, and commit the oldest sins the newest kind of ways?

Lady, you are the cruel'st she alive If you will lead these graces to the grave And leave the world no copy.

If we shadows have offended, Think but this, and all is mended, That you have but slumber'd here While these visions did appear.

Two women placed together makes cold weather.

Prophet may you be! If I be false, or swerve a hair from truth, when time is old and hath forgot itself, when waterdrops have worn the stones of Troy, and blind oblivion swallowed cities up, and mighty states characterless are grated to dusty nothing, yet let memory, from false to false, among false maids in love, upbraid my falsehood!

I'll take thy word for faith, not ask thine oath; Who shuns not to break one will sure crack both.

Now I am past all comforts here, but prayer.