William Shakespeare (1564–1616)

Isabella.—Hark, how I’ll bribe you,

Ay, with such gifts that Heaven shall share with you.

Not with fond shekels of the tested gold,

Or stones, whose rates are either rich, or poor,

As fancy values them; but with true prayers,

That shall be up at heaven, and enter there,

Ere sunrise; prayers from preserved souls,

From fasting maids, whose minds are dedicate

To nothing temporal.