I Am Not Only Witty In Myself,

How Much An Ill Word May Empoison Liking!

Under The Colour Of Commending Him I Have Access My Own Love To Prefer; But Silvia Is Too Fair, Too True, Too Holy, To Be Corrupted With My Worthless Gifts.

So Far Be Distant; And Good Night, Sweet Friend: Thy Love Ne'er Alter, Till They Sweet Life End

By Jove, I Am Not Covetous For Gold, Nor Care I Who Doth Feed Upon My Cost; It Yearns Me Not If Me My Garments Wear; Such Outward Things Dwell Not In My Desires: But If It Be A Sin To Covet Honor, I Am The Most Offending Soul Alive.

God's Will! My Liege, Would You And I Alone, Without More Help, Could Fight This Royal Battle!