Presume not that I am the thing I was.
The fringed curtains of thine eye advance, And say what thou seest yond.
But I, that am not shaped for sportive tricks, Nor made to court an amorous looking-glass; I, that am rudely stamped, and want love's majesty To strut before a wanton ambling nymph.
You know who you are, but know not who you could be.
When I was at home I was in a better place
We must love men, ere to us they will seem worthy of our love.