O call not me to justify the wrong, That thy unkindness lays upon my heart, Wound me not with thine eye but with thy tongue, Use power with power, and slay me not by art.
Virtuous and fair, royal and gracious.
I understand thy kisses, and thou mine, And that's a feeling disputation.
O, how wretched is that poor man that hangs on princes' favors.
Thus have I, Wall, my part discharged so; And, being done, thus Wall away doth go.
Death is my son-in-law. Death is my heir. My daughter he hath wedded. I will die, And leave him all. Life, living, all is Death’s.