Go to you bosom: Knock there, and ask your heart what it doth know.
There is some soul of goodness in things evil, Would men observingly distill it out.
Love goes toward love as schoolboys from their books, But love from love, toward school with heavy looks.
Past all shame, so past all truth.
Out of my sight! Thou dost infect mine eyes.
O Helena, goddess, nymph, perfect, divine! To what, my love, shall I compare thine eyne? Crystal is muddy. O, how ripe in show Thy lips, those kissing cherries, tempting grow!