I Had Rather Be A Dog, And

If She Be Not Honest, Chaste, And True, There's No Man Happy.

Fie, Fie Upon Her! There's Language In Her Eye, Her Cheek, Her Lip, Nay, Her Foot Speaks; Her Wanton Spirits Look Out At Every Joint And Motive Of Her Body.

Do All Men Kill The Things They Do Not Love?

But I Will Wear My Heart Upon My Sleeve For Daws To Peck At: I Am Not What I Am.

Good Morrow, 'tis Saint Valentine's Day, All In The Morn Betime, And I A Maid At Your Window, To Be Your Valentine.