If one good deed in all my life I did, I do repent it from my very soul.

To have seen much and to have nothing is to have rich eyes and poor hands.

Where love is great, the littlest doubts are fear; Where little fears grow great, great love grows there.

Conceal me what I am, and be my aid for such disguise as haply shall become the form of my intent.

Out, out, brief candle! Life's but a walking shadow.

Under the colour of commending him I have access my own love to prefer; But Silvia is too fair, too true, too holy, To be corrupted with my worthless gifts.

Until I know this sure uncertainty, I'll entertain the offered fallacy.