Have more than you show, Speak less than you know.
Did my heart love till now? forswear it, sight! For I ne'er saw true beauty till this night.
My thought, whose murder yet is but fantastical, Shakes so my single state of man That function is smothered in surmise, And nothing is but what is not.
Were all the letters sun, I could not see one.
Love is too young to know what conscience is.
Here come the lovers, full of joy and mirth.— Joy, gentle friends! joy and fresh days of love Accompany your hearts!