Ask me no reason why I love you; for though Love use Reason for his physician, he admits him not for his counsellor.

Better conquest never canst thou make than arm thy constant and thy nobler parts against giddy, loose suggestions.

Now, my masters, happy man be his dole, say I; every man to his business.

I dote on his very absence.

The chameleon Love can feed on the air

Wherefore was I to this keen mockery born? When at your hands did I deserve this scorn? Is't not enough, is't not enough, young man, That I did never, no, nor never can, Deserve a sweet look from Demetrius' eye, But you must flout my insufficiency?

Get thee a good husband, and use him as he uses thee.