For thou hast given me in this beauteous face A world of earthly blessings to my soul, If sympathy of love unite our thoughts.

For I have neither wit, nor words, nor worth, Action, nor utterance, nor the power of speech, To stir men's blood: I only speak right on; I tell you that which you yourselves do know.

Stars, hide your fires; Let not light see my black and deep desires.

Woe, destruction, ruin, and decay; the worst is death and death will have his day.

Flout 'em, and scout 'em; and scout 'em, and flout 'em; / Thought is free.

Free from gross passion or of mirth of anger constant spirit, not swerving with the blood, garnish'd and deck'd in modest compliment, not working with the eye without the ear, and but in purged judgement trusting neither? Such and so finely bolted didst thou seem.

Each substance of a grief has twenty shadows.