My glass shall not persuade me I am old, So long as youth and thou are of one date; But when in thee time's furrows I behold, Then look I death my days should expiate.

Who soars too near the sun, with golden wings, melts them.

Look to her, Moor, if thou has eyes to see. She has deceived her father, and may thee.

A true repentance shuns the evil itself, more than the external suffering or the shame.

Alas, I am a woman friendless, hopeless!

I am joined with no foot land-rakers, no long-staff, sixpenny strikers, none of these mad, mustachio purple-hued maltworms, but with nobility and tranquillity.

You must confine yourself within the modest limits of order.