āHow many fond fools serve mad jealousy!ā
āGet thee to a nunnery.ā
āWolves and bears, they say, casting their savagery aside, have done like offices of pity.ā
āWhat, no more ceremony? See, my women! Against the blown rose may they stop their nose That kneel'd unto the buds.ā
āI am not bound to please thee with my answer.ā
āAway, you cut-purse rascal! you filthy bung, away! By this wine, I'll thrust my knife in your mouldy chaps, an you play the saucy cuttle with me. Away, you bottle-ale rascal! you basket-hilt stale juggler, you!ā
āIf ever thou shalt love,In the sweet pangs of it remember me;For such as I am all true lovers are,Unstaid and skittish in all motions elseSave in the constant image of the creatureThat is beloved.ā
āLove sees with the heart and not with mind.ā
āI love a ballad but even too well if it be doleful matter merrily set down, or a very pleasant thing indeed and sung lamentably.ā