Fortune reigns in gifts of the world.
No deeper wrinkles yet? Hath sorrow struck So many blows upon this face of mine And made no deeper wounds?
For where is any author in the world Teaches such beauty as a woman's eye?
Though she be but little, she is fierce!
Or are you like the painting of a sorrow, a face without a heart?
The small amount of foolery wise men have makes a great show.