I'll fight, till from my bones my flesh be hacked.
Would I were in an alehouse in London.
No stony bulwark can resist the love, and love dares what anyone can love.
Now, by the world, it is a lusty wench; I love her ten times more than e'er I did: O, how I long to have some chat with her!
T'is true: there's magic in the web of it.
Stars hide your fires; let not light see my black and deep desires: The eyes wink at the hand; yet let that be which the eye fears, when it is done, to see