I see that the fashion wears out more apparel than the man.

To beguile the time, look like the time. Bear welcome in your eye, your hand, your tongue.

She speaks poniards, and every word stabs.

Stars hide your fires; let not light see my black and deep desires: The eyes wink at the hand; yet let that be which the eye fears, when it is done, to see

Lord, what fools these mortals be!

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.

I would not wish any companion in the world but you.