I Swear Again, I Would Not Be

If Fortune Torments Me, Hope Contents Me.

There Is None Of My Uncle's Marks Upon You; He Taught Me How To Know A Man In Love; In Which Cage Of Rushes I Am Sure You Are Not Prisoner.

Aand In The End, Having My Freedom, Boast Of Nothing Else But That I Was A Journeyman To Grief?

Leonato Well, Niece, I Hope To See You One Day Fitted With A Husband. Beatrice Not Till God Make Men Of Some Other Metal Than Earth. Would It Not Grieve A Woman To Be Overmastered With A Pierce Of Valiant Dust? To Make An Account Of Her Life To A Clod Of Wayward Marl? No, Uncle, I'll None: Adam's Sons Are My Brethren; And, Truly, I Hold It A Sin To Match In My Kindred.

The Weariest And Most Loathed Worldly Life, That Age, Ache, Penury And Imprisonment Can Lay On Nature Is A Paradise, To What We Fear Of Death.