She's beautiful, and therefore to be wooed; She is a woman, therefore to be won.

By the apostle Paul, shadows tonight Have struck more terror to the soul of Richard Than can the substance of ten thousand soldiers.

He knows what it's like to strut and fret his hour upon the stage and then be heard no more.

O' thinkest thou we shall ever meet again? I doubt it not; and all these woes shall serve For sweet discourses in our times to come.

The gaudy, blabbing, and remorseful day Is crept into the bosom of the sea.

Though those that are betray'd Do feel the treason sharply, yet the traitor stands in worse case of woe

By Heaven, my soul is purg'd from grudging hate; And with my hand I seal my true heart's love