1 Thou serv'st me, and I'll love thee.
2 I must love you, and sue to know you better.
3 Therefore be gone Without our grace, our love, our benison.
4 I will lay trust upon thee; and thou shalt find a dearer father in my love.
5 I know you do not love me; for your sisters Have, as I do remember, done me wrong.
6 Gloucester, I live To thank thee for the love thou show'dst the King, And to revenge thine eyes.
7 He's mad that trusts in the tameness of a wolf, a horse's health, a boy's love, or a whore's oath.
8 Unhappy that I am, I cannot heave My heart into my mouth: I love your majesty According to my bond; no more nor less.
9 Not so young, sir, to love a woman for singing; nor so old to dote on her for anything: I have years on my back forty-eight.
10 Good my lord, You have begot me, bred me, lov'd me: I Return those duties back as are right fit, Obey you, love you, and most honour you.
11 I know your lady does not love her husband; I am sure of that; and at her late being here She gave strange oeillades and most speaking looks To noble Edmund.
12 The princes, France and Burgundy, Great rivals in our youngest daughter's love, Long in our court have made their amorous sojourn, And here are to be answer'd.
13 If for my sake Thou wilt o'ertake us hence a mile or twain, I the way toward Dover, do it for ancient love, And bring some covering for this naked soul, Which I'll entreat to lead me.
14 Reverse thy state; And in thy best consideration check This hideous rashness: answer my life my judgement, Thy youngest daughter does not love thee least; Nor are those empty-hearted, whose low sounds Reverb no hollowness.
15 I do profess to be no less than I seem; to serve him truly that will put me in trust; to love him that is honest; to converse with him that is wise and says little; to fear judgement; to fight when I cannot choose; and to eat no fish.
16 In my true heart I find she names my very deed of love; Only she comes too short, that I profess Myself an enemy to all other joys Which the most precious square of sense possesses, And find I am alone felicitate In your dear highness' love.
17 Sir, I love you more than word can wield the matter; Dearer than eyesight, space, and liberty; Beyond what can be valu'd, rich or rare; No less than life, with grace, health, beauty, honour; As much as child e'er lov'd, or father found; A love that makes breath poor and speech unable; Beyond all manner of so much I love you.
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