Stars, hide your fires; Let not light see my black and deep desires.
I am as vigilant as a cat to steal cream.
A maiden hath no tongue--but thought.
Take no repulse, whatever she doth say; For 'get you gone,' she doth not mean 'away.' Flatter and praise, commend, extol their graces; Though ne'er so black, say they have angels' faces
O, what a goodly outside falsehood hath!
Get thee glass eyes, and like a scurvy politician, seem to see the things thou dost not.