Wolves and bears, they say, casting their savagery aside, have done like offices of pity.

Why, I can smile and murder whiles I smile, And cry 'content' to that which grieves my heart, And wet my cheeks with artificial tears, And frame my face for all occasions

I fill up a place, which may be better... when I have made it empty.

It is thyself, mine own self's better part; Mine eye's clear eye, my dear heart's dearer heart; My food, my fortune, and my sweet hope's aim, My sole earth's heaven, and my heaven's claim.

Corruption wins not more than honesty. Still in thy right hand carry gentle peace, To silence envious tongues.

So now I have confessed that he is thine, And I my self am mortgaged to thy will, My self I'll forfeit, so that other mine, Thou wilt restore to be my comfort still.

How my achievements mock me!