And yet, by heaven, I think my love as rare As any she belied with false compare.
Past and to come, seems best; things present, worse.
Don't waste your love on somebody, who doesn't value it.
I'll give my jewels for a set of beads, My gorgeous palace for a hermitage, My gay apparel for an almsman's gown, My figured goblets for a dish of wood, My scepter for a palmer's walking staff My subjects for a pair of carved saints and my large kingdom for a little grave.
The web of our life is of a mingled yarn, good and ill together.
A man should be what he seems.