My affection hath an unknown bottom, like the Bay of Portugal.

“Why, what's the matter,That you have such a February face,So full of frost, of …”

“God's will! my liege, would you and I alone, Without more help, could fight thi…”

“Scratching could not make it worse. . . such a face as yours.”

“Do not, as some ungracious pastors do,Show me the steep and thorny way to heave…”