My friends were poor, but honest, so's my love.

Thou lump of foul deformity!

Welcome ever smiles, and farewell goes out sighing.

A man in all the world's new fashion planted, That hath a mint of phrases in his brain.

Under the colour of commending him I have access my own love to prefer; But Silvia is too fair, too true, too holy, To be corrupted with my worthless gifts.

The painful warrior famous for fight, After a thousand victories, once foil'd, Is from the books of honor razed quite, And all the rest forgot for which he toil'd

A heavy heart bears not a nimble tongue.