My love is strengthen'd, though more weak in seeming; I love not less, though less the show appear: That love is merchandised whose rich esteeming The owner's tongue doth publish every where.

My brain more busy than the labouring spider Weaves tedious snares to trap mine enemies.

He jests at scars that never felt a wound.

Praising what is lost makes the remembrance dear

My love's more richer than my tongue.

From women's eyes this doctrine I derive: They sparkle still the right Promethean fire; They are the books, the arts, the academes, That show, contain and nourish all the world.

Hang him, swaggering rascal!