Of chastity, the ornaments are chaste.
The most peerless piece of earth, I think, that e' er the sun shone bright on.
There's rosemary, that's for remembrance. Pray you, love, remember.
How much better is it to weep at joy than to joy at weeping?
Ne'er ask me what raiment I'll wear, for I have no more doublets than backs, no more stockings than legs, nor no more shoes than feet--nay, sometime more feet than shoes, or such shoes as my toes look through the overleather.
Make me a willow cabin at your gate, And call upon my soul within the house; Write loyal cantons of contemned love And sing them loud even in the dead of night.