All's Well That Ends Well
Why, then, young Bertram, take her; she's thy wife.
My wife, my liege! I shall beseech your highness,
In such a business give me leave to use
The help of mine own eyes.
Know'st thou not, Bertram,
What she has done for me?
Yes, my good lord;
But never hope to know why I should marry her. (2.3.4)
What's the matter, sweet-heart?
Although before the solemn priest I have sworn,
I will not bed her.
What, what, sweet-heart?
O my Paroles, they have married me!
I'll to the Tuscan wars, and never bed her. (2.3.31)
Ay, that would be known. To the wars, my boy, to the wars!
He wears his honour in a box unseen,
That hugs his kicky-wicky here at home,
Spending his manly marrow in her arms,
Which should sustain the bound and high curvet
Of Mars's fiery steed. To other regions
France is a stable; we that dwell in't jades;
Therefore, to the war! (2.3.33)