Fondling,' she saith, 'since I have hemm'd thee here Within the circuit of this ivory pale, I'll be a park, and thou shalt be my deer; Feed where thou wilt, on mountain or in dale: Graze on my lips, and if those hills be dry, Stray lower, where the pleasant fountains lie.

On pain of death, no person be so bold.

No profit grows where no pleasure is taken.

Lechery, lechery; still, wars and lechery: nothing else holds fashion.

Let witchcraft join with beauty, lust with both!

I humbly do beseech of your pardon, For too much loving you

You have too much respect upon the world; They lose it that do buy it with much care