Ingratitude is monstrous.
Yet this my comfort: when your words are done, My woes end likewise with the evening sun.
As many arrows, loosed several ways, come to one mark...so many a thousand actions, once afoot, end in one purpose.
He's all my exercise, my mirth, my matter.
None can cure their harms by wailing them.
I will not be sworn but love may transform me to an oyster