Let not thy divining heart Forethink me any ill; Destiny may take thy part, And may thy fears fulfill.
Love is a growing, or full constant light; And his first minute, after noon, is night.
No spring nor summer beauty hath such grace as I have seen in one autumnal face.
Die not, poore death, nor yet canst thou kill me.
How many times go we to comedies, to masques, to places of great and noble resort, nay even to church only to see the company.
How much shall I be changed, before I am changed!