Have more than you show, Speak less than you know.

O polished perturbation! golden care! That keep'st the ports of slumber open wide To many a watchful night.

Let still woman take An elder than herself: so wears she to him, So sways she level in her husband's heart, For, boy, however we do praise ourselves, Our fancies are more giddy and unfirm, More longing, wavering, sooner to be lost and warn, Than women's are.

So full of artless jealousy is guilt, It spills itself in fearing to be spilt.

Eye of newt, and toe of frog, Wool of bat, and tongue of dog, Adder's fork, and blind-worm's sting, Lizard's leg, and owlet's wing, For a charm of powerful trouble, Like a hell-broth boil and bubble.

The wounds invisible that Love's keen arrows make.

where civil blood makes civil hands unclean