We go to gain a little patch of ground that hath in it no profit but the name.

But O, how bitter a thing it is to look into happiness through another man's eyes.

I thank God I am not a woman, to be touched in so many giddy offences as He hath generally taxed their whole their whole sex withal.

I am not bound to please thee with my answer.

Young Adam Cupid, he that shot so trim, When King Cophetua loved the beggar-maid!

O Mistress mine, where are you roaming? O, stay and hear; your true love's coming, That can sing both high and low: Trip no further, pretty sweeting; Journeys end in lovers meeting, Every wise man's son doth know. What is love? 'Tis not hereafter; Present mirth hath present laughter; What's to come is still unsure: In delay there lies not plenty; Then, come kiss me, sweet and twenty, Youth's a stuff will not endure.

He is the half part of a blessed man, Left to be finished by such as she; And she a fair divided excellence, Whose fullness of perfection lies in him.