Free from gross passion or of mirth of anger constant spirit, not swerving with the blood, garnish'd and deck'd in modest compliment, not working with the eye without the ear, and but in purged judgement trusting neither? Such and so finely bolted didst thou seem.

I understand thy kisses, and thou mine, And that's a feeling disputation.

For where is any author in the world Teaches such beauty as a woman's eye?

What need the bridge much broader than the flood?

Tis our fast intent To shake all cares and business from our age, Conferring them on younger strengths, while we Unburdened crawl toward death.

'Tis best to weigh the enemy more mighty than he seems.

I'll be damned for never a king's son in Christendom.