The Hind That Would Be Mated By

A Maiden Hath No Tongue--but Thought.

So We Grew Together Like To A Double Cherry, Seeming Parted, But Yet An Union In Partition, Two Lovely Berries Molded On One Stem.

Glendower: I Can Call The Spirits From The Vasty Deep. Hotspur: Why, So Can I, Or So Can Any Man; But Will They Come, When You Do Call For Them?

Thou Know'st 'tis Common; All That Lives Must Die, Passing Through Nature To Eternity.

But We Have Reason To Cool Our Raging Motions, Our Carnal Stings, Our Unbitted Lusts; Whereof I Take This That You Call Love To Bea Sect Or Scion.... It Is Merely A Lust Of The Blood And A Permission Of The Will.