We, ignorant of ourselves, Beg often our own harms, which the wise powers Deny us for our good; so find we profit By losing of our prayers.
See where she comes apparelled like the spring.
Mine honour is my life; both grow in one; Take honour from me, and my life is done.
we are the lords of all eternity
Foul whisperings are abroad
Go, write it in a martial hand; be curst and brief; it is no matter how witty, so it be eloquent and fun of invention: taunt him with the licence of ink: if thou thou'st him some thrice, it shall not be amiss; and as many lies as will lie in thy shee.