Free from gross passion or of mirth or anger
My nature is subdued to what it works in, like the dyer's hand.
What is past is prologue.
O, then, what graces in my love do dwell, that he hath turn'd a heaven unto hell
The love that follows us sometime is our trouble, which still we thank as love.
Thy head is as full of quarrels as an egg is full of meat, and yet thy head hath been beaten as addle as an egg for quarrelling.