Farewell, fair cruelty.

I was not born under a rhyming planet, nor I cannot woo to in festival terms.

If by chance I talk a little wild, forgive me; I had it from my father.

If to do were as easy as to know what were good to do, chapels had been churches, and poor men's cottage princes' palaces.

I can see he's not in your good books,' said the messenger. 'No, and if he were I would burn my library.

Well, God's above all; and there be souls must be saved, and there be souls must not be saved.

Thou art as tyrannous, so as thou art, As those whose beauties proudly make them cruel; For well thou know'st to my dear doting heart Thou art the fairest and most precious jewel.