When words are scarce they are seldom spent in vain.
My love to thee is sound, sans crack or flaw.
He is dead and gone, lady, He is dead and gone; At his head a grass-green turf, At his heels a stone.
Tempt not a desperate man
Hold, or cut bowstrings.
All lovers swear more performance than they are able, and yet reserve an ability that they never perform; vowing more than the perfection of ten, and discharging less than the tenth part of one.