Bid me discourse, I will enchant thine ear

How my achievements mock me!

Because it is a customary cross, As die to love as thoughts, and dreams, and sighs, Wishes, and tears, poor fancy's followers.

So are you to my thoughts as food to life, or as sweet seasoned showers are to the ground.

Things base and vile, holding no quantity, Love can transpose to form and dignity. Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind, And therefore is winged Cupid painted blind. Nor hath Love's mind of any judgment taste; Wings and no eyes figure unheedy haste.

No man means evil but the devil, and we shall know him by his horns.

In struggling with misfortunes lies the true proof of virtue.