Alas, I am a woman friendless, hopeless!
She lov'd me for the dangers I had pass'd, And I lov'd her that she did pity them
And what’s he then that says I play the villain?
The ostentation of our love, which, left unshown, is often left unloved.
Why are our bodies soft, and weak, and smooth But that our soft conditions and our hearts Should well agree with our external parts?
Set honour in one eye and death i' the other, And I will look on both indifferently.