Let them obey that knows not how to rule.
Thou shouldst not have been old till thou hadst been wise.
Here will be an old abusing of God's patience and the king's English.
Or are you like the painting of a sorrow, a face without a heart?
There lives within the very flame of love A kind of wick or snuff that will abate it.
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.