Love is . . . a madness most discreet
[Thine] face is not worth sunburning.
Then hate me when thou wilt, if ever, now.
I like this place and could willingly waste my time in it.
Conscience is a blushing, shamefaced spirit than mutinies in a man's bosom; it fills one full of obstacles.
Come, swear it, damn thyself, lest, being like one of heaven, the devils themselves should fear to seize thee; therefore be double-damned, swear,--thou art honest.