The Let-alone Lies Not In Your Good

And Ruin`d Love When It Is Built Anew, Grows Fairer Than At First, More Strong, Far Greater

We Wound Our Modesty And Make Foul The Clearness Of Our Deservings, When Of Ourselves We Publish Them.

Too Much To Know Is To Know Nought But Fame; And Every Godfather Can Give A Name.

It Is The Purpose That Makes Strong The Vow; But Vows To Every Purpose Must Not Hold.

Now Stand You On The Top Of Happy Hours, And Many Maiden Gardens Yet Unset, With Virtuous Wish Would Bear You Living Flowers, Much Liker Than Your Painted Counterfeit: So Should The Lines Of Life That Life Repair Which This, Time's Pencil, Or My Pupil Pen Neither In Inward Worth Nor Outward Fair Can Make You Live Your Self In Eyes Of Men.