I was not born under a rhyming planet, nor I cannot woo to in festival terms.

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.

Love is like a child, That longs for everything it can come by

And ruin`d love when it is built anew, grows fairer than at first, more strong, far greater

It is not vain glory for a man and his glass to confer in his own chamber.

Lady, you are the cruel'st she alive If you will lead these graces to the grave And leave the world no copy.

The king's name is a tower of strength.