Tax not so bad a voice to slander music any more than once.

And thus I clothe my naked villainy With odd old ends stol'n out of holy writ; And seem a saint, when most I play the devil.

Thine eyes I love, and they as pitying me, Knowing thy heart torment me with disdain, Have put on black, and loving mourners be, Looking with pretty ruth upon my pain.

O tiger's heart wrapped in a woman's hide!

Small cheer and great welcome makes a merry feast.

God grant us patience!

No reckoning made, but sent to my account with all my imperfections on my head.