My dear, dear Lord, The purest treasure mortal times afford Is spotless reputation; that away Men are but gilded loan or painted clay... Mine honor is my life; both grow in one; Take honor from me, and my life is done.

Who is Silvia What is she, That all our swains commend her Holy, fair, and wise is she.

God send everyone their heart's desire!

Beggar that I am, I am even poor in thanks

He that dies pays all debts.

Love surfeits not, Lust like a glutton dies; Love is all truth, Lust full of forged lies

Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks within his bending sickle's compass come.