Write till your ink be dry, and with your tearsMoist it again, and frame some feeling lineThat may discover such integrity.

    Oh, devil, devil!
If that the earth could teem with woman’s tears,
Each drop she falls would prove a crocodile.
Out of my sight!

. . . I am bound upon a wheel of fire, that mine own tears do scald like molten lead.

Till I have no wife I have nothing.

If you have tears, prepare to shed them now.

There was never virgin got till virginity was first lost