Speak Low, If You Speak Love.

God Has Given You One Face, And You Make Yourself Another.

Self-love, My Liege, Is Not So Vile A Sin, As Self-neglecting.

O, Grief Hath Changed Me Since You Saw Me Last, And Careful Hours With Time's Deformed Hand Have Written Strange Defeatures In My Face. But Tell Me Yet, Dost Thou Not Know My Voice?

My Glass Shall Not Persuade Me I Am Old, So Long As Youth And Thou Are Of One Date; But When In Thee Time's Furrows I Behold, Then Look I Death My Days Should Expiate.

Be Like You Thought Our Love Would Last Too Long, If It Were Chain'd Together