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.

Though she be but little, she is fierce!

Suspicion always haunts the guilty mind.

Come, and take choice of all my library, And so beguile thy sorrow.

And to the English court assemble now, From every region, apes of idleness!

Farewell, fair cruelty.

To sue to live, I find I seek to die; And, seeking death, find life: let it come on.