You may my Glories and my State depose, But not my Griefes; still am I King of those.
Self-love, my liege, is not so vile a sin, as self-neglecting.
To sue to live, I find I seek to die; And, seeking death, find life: let it come on.
Is it not strange, that sheep's guts should hale souls out of men's bodies!
Speak of me as I am. Nothing extenuate, nor set down aught in malice.
To me, fair friend, you never can be old, For as you were when first your eye I ey'd, Such seems your beauty still.