Heaven take my soul, and England keep my bones!

Base men being in love have then a nobility in their natures more than is native to them.

My father's wit, and my mother's tongue, assist me!

I had rather eleven died nobly for their country than one voluptuously surfeit out of action.

Love laughs at locksmiths.

She will die if you love her not, And she will die ere she might make her love known

Grief fills the room up of my absent child, Lies in his bed, walks up and down with me, Puts on his pretty look, repeats his words, Remembers me of his gracious parts, Stuffs out his vacant garments with his form