O, my offence is rank, it smells to heaven
Lawn as white as driven snow; Cyprus black as e'er was crow; Gloves as sweet as damask roses.
There's beggary in love that can be reckoned
Desperate times breed desperate measures
Enjoy'd no sooner but despised straight, Past reason hunted, and no sooner had Past reason hated
O Lord that lends me life, Lend me a heart replete with thankfulness!