Stars, hide your fires; Let not light see my black and deep desires.
To England will I steal, and there I'll steal.
Women speak two languages - one of which is verbal.
And yet, by heaven, I think my love as rare As any she belied with false compare.
For it falls out That what we have we prize not to the worth Whiles we enjoy it, but being lacked and lost, Why, then we rack the value, then we find The virtue that possession would not show us While it was ours.
If thou couldst, doctor, cast The water of my land, find her disease, And purge it to a sound and pristine health, I would applaud thee to the very echo, That should applaud you again.