We Are Not The First Who With

I Know No Ways To Mince It In Love, But Directly To Say - I Love You

Can It Be That Modesty May More Betray Our Sense Than Woman's Lightness? Having Waste Ground Enough, Shall We Desire To Raze The Sanctuary And Pitch Our Evils There?

Hot And Hasty, Like A Scotch Jig.

And Oftentimes Excusing Of A Fault Doth Make The Fault The Worse By The Excuse.

My Hounds Are Bred Out Of The Spartan Kind; So Flew'd, So Sanded; Their Heads Are Hung With Ears That Sweep Away The Morning Dew.