Sigh no more ladies, sigh no more, men were deceivers ever
Conscience doth make cowards of us all.
Why are our bodies soft, and weak, and smooth But that our soft conditions and our hearts Should well agree with our external parts?
Let me have war, say I; it exceeds peace as far as day does night; it's spritely, waking, audible, and full of vent.
When the sea was calm all ships alike showed mastership in floating.
My love is strengthen'd, though more weak in seeming; I love not less, though less the show appear: That love is merchandised whose rich esteeming The owner's tongue doth publish every where.