Look to her, Moor, if thou has eyes to see. She has deceived her father, and may thee.

But we have reason to cool our raging motions, our carnal stings, our unbitted lusts; whereof I take this that you call love to bea sect or scion.... It is merely a lust of the blood and a permission of the will.

Hold, or cut bowstrings.

Why, then the world ’s mine oyster, Which I with sword will open.

Look, how this ring encompasseth thy finger, Even so thy breast encloseth my poor heart; Wear both of them, for both of them are thine.

Fair youth, I would I could make thee believe I love.

If there be no great love in the beginning, yet heaven may decrease it upon better acquaintance, when we are married and have more occasion to know one another: I hope, upon familiarity will grow more contempt.