A woman moved is like a fountain troubled, Muddy, ill-seeming, thick, bereft of beauty.

For you and I are past our dancing days.

If I must die, I will encounter darkness as a bride, and hug it in mine arms.

To beguile the time, look like the time. Bear welcome in your eye, your hand, your tongue.

'Tis one thing to be tempted, another thing to fall.

When heaven doth weep, doth not the earth o'erflow? If the winds rage, doth not the sea wax mad, Threatening the welkin with his big-swoln face? And wilt thou have a reason for this coil? I am the sea; hark, how her sighs do blow! She is the weeping welkin, I the earth: Then must my sea be moved with her sighs; Then must my earth with her continual tears Become a deluge, overflow'd and drown'd: For why my bowels cannot hide her woes, But like a drunkard must I vomit them. Then give me leave, for losers will have leave To ease their stomachs with their bitter tongues.

The Dear father Would with his daughter speak, commands her service; Are they inform'd of this?