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

O God, O God, how weary, stale, flat, and unprofitable seem to me all the uses of this world!

Do not swear by the moon, for she changes constantly. Then your love would also change.

Good morrow, 'tis Saint Valentine's Day, All in the morn betime, And I a maid at your window, To be your valentine.

Through tattered clothes, small vices do appear. Robes and furred gowns hide all.

Fight valiantly to-day; and yet I do thee wrong to mind thee of it, for thou art framed of the firm truth of valor.

The instruments of darkness tell us truths.