He that departs with his own honesty For Vulgar , doth it too dearly buy.
That old bald cheater, Time.
Give me a look, give me a face, That makes simplicity a grace Robes loosely flowing, hair as free Such sweet neglect more taketh me Than all the adulteries of art: They strike mine eyes, but not my heart.
Weigh the meaning and look not at the words.
... the best pilots have need of mariners, besides sails, anchor and other tackle.
I feel my griefs too, and there scarce is ground Upon my flesh t'inflict another wound. Yet dare I not complain, or wish for death With holy Paul; lest it be thought the breath Of discontent; or that these prayers be For weariness of life, not love of thee.