The Force Of His Own

Thou Hast Nor Youth Nor Age But As It Were An After Dinner Sleep Dreaming Of Both.

O Shame, Where Is Thy Blush?

Ere I Could Make Thee Open Thy White Hand, And Clap Thyself My Love; Then Didst Thou Utter, I Am Your's For Ever!

Jaques: Rosalind Is Your Love's Name? Orlando: Yes, Just. Jaques: I Do Not Like Her Name. Orlando: There Was No Thought Of Pleasing You When She Was Christened.

Now Old Desire Doth In His Deathbed Lie, And Young Affection Gapes To Be His Heir; That Fair For Which Love Groan'd For And Would Die, With Tender Juliet Match'd, Is Now Not Fair.