Fair thoughts and happy hours attend on you.
And how his audit stands who knows, save Heaven?
Though age from folly could not give me freedom, It does from childishness.
The wounds invisible that Love's keen arrows make.
O call not me to justify the wrong, That thy unkindness lays upon my heart, Wound me not with thine eye but with thy tongue, Use power with power, and slay me not by art.
Bid me run, and I will strive with things impossible.