Love adds a precious seeing to the eye.
Thou weigh'st thy words before thou givest them breath.
As you are old and reverend, you should be wise.
For as a surfeit of the sweetest things The deepest loathing to the stomach brings, Or as tie heresies that men do leave Are hated most of those they did deceive, So thou, my surfeit and my heresy, Of all be hated, but the most of me!
Headstrong liberty is lashed with woe.
I'll be damned for never a king's son in Christendom.