For daws to peck at: I am not what I am.

If I were to kiss you then go to hell, I would. So then I can brag with the devils I saw heaven without ever entering it.

For to be wise and love exceeds man's might.

But jealous souls will not be answer'd so; They are not ever jealous for the cause, But jealous for they are jealous: ‘tis a monster Begot upon itself, born on itself.

Let life be short, else shame will be too long.

The let-alone lies not in your good will.

Thus have I had thee as a dream doth flatter: in sleep a king but waking no such matter.