I'll Go Find A Shadow, And Sigh

'tis Not To Make Me Jealous To Say My Wife Is Fair, Feeds Well, Loves Company, Is Free Of Speech, Sings, Plays, And Dances Well; Where Virtue Is, These Are More Virtuous.

Well, If Fortune Be A Woman, She's A Good Wench For This Gear.

Lay Aside Life-harming Heaviness, And Entertain A Cheerful Disposition.

I Will Be Brief. Your Noble Son Is Mad.

Such An Act That Blurs The Grace And Blush Of Modesty; Calls Virtue Hypocrite; Takes Off The Rose From The Fair Forehead Of An Innocent Love, And Sets A Blister There; Makes Marriage Vows As False As Dicers' Oaths.