Let me be ignorant, and in nothing good, but graciously to know I am no better.
Let me confess that we two must be twain, although our undivided loves are one.
One whom the music of his own vain tongue doth ravish like enchanting harmony.
The lady doth protest too much, methinks.
The tempter or the tempted, who sins most?
Tired with all these for restful death I cry, As to behold desert a beggar born, And needy nothing trimmed in jollity, And purest faith unhappily forsworn.