All fancy-sick she is and pale of cheer, with sighs of love, that costs the fresh blood dear.
Kindness nobler ever than revenge.
Why, I can smile and murder whiles I smile, And cry 'content' to that which grieves my heart, And wet my cheeks with artificial tears, And frame my face for all occasions
Nothing can seem foul to those who win.
Winding up days with toil and nights with sleep.
If thou dost love, proclaim it faithfully.