Let us not burden our remembrances with a heaviness that's gone.
As chaste as unsunned snow.
If I shall be condemned Upon surmises, all proofs sleeping else But what your jealousies awake, I tell you 'Tis rigor and not law.
Against love's fire fear`s frost hath dissolution
Oh! that you could turn your eyes towards the napes of your necks, and make but an interior survey of your good selves.
What stronger breastplate than a heart untainted! Thrice is he arm'd, that hath his quarrel just.