I'll fight, till from my bones my flesh be hacked.
For here, I hope, begins our lasting joy.
I love thee, I love thee with a love that shall not die. Till the sun grows cold and the stars grow old.
O heaven! were man, But constant, he were perfect.
O, grief hath changed me since you saw me last, And careful hours with Time's deformed hand Have written strange defeatures in my face. But tell me yet, dost thou not know my voice?
Faint heart never won fair maid.