And send him many years of sunshine days!

I never yet did hear, That the bruis'd heart was pierced through the ear

O the world is but a word; were it all yours to give it in a breath, how quickly were it gone!

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.

Let the galled jade wince; our withers are unwrung.

O, train me not, sweet mermaid, with thy note, to drown me in thy sister’s flood of tears.

In nature there's no blemish but the mind. None can be called deformed but the unkind.