For trust not him that hath once broken faith
He does it with better grace, but I do it more natural.
Lovers ever run before the clock
The bitter clamor of two eager tongues.
We must love men, ere to us they will seem worthy of our love.
The native hue of resolution is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought; and enterprises of great pitch and moment, With this regard, their currents turn awry, and lose the name of action.