Self-love, my liege, is not so vile a sin, as self-neglecting.
My nature is subdued to what it works in, like the dyer's hand.
We waste our lights in vain, like lamps by day.
It is the purpose that makes strong the vow; But vows to every purpose must not hold.
And yet,to say the truth, reason and love keep little company together nowadays.
. . . it is impossible you should take true root but by the fair weather that you make yourself it is needful that you frame the season of your own harvest.