Sweet love! Sweet lines! Sweet life! Here is her hand, the agent of her heart; Here is her oath for love, her honour's pawn

Opinion crowns with an imperial voice.

Beauty is but a vain and doubtful good; a shining gloss that fadeth suddenly; a flower that dies when it begins to bud; a doubtful good, a gloss, a glass, a flower, lost, faded, broken, dead within an hour.

Who wooed in haste, and means to wed at leisure.

The coward dies a thousand deaths, the valiant, only once!

Thus have I, Wall, my part discharged so; And, being done, thus Wall away doth go.

The extreme parts of time extremely forms all causes to the purpose of his speed.