To me, fair friend, you never can be old
Let not my love be call'd idolatry
Not mine own fears, nor the prophetic soul
What's in the brain that ink may character
CIX. O, never say that I was false of heart
cx. Alas, 'tis true, I have gone here and there
CXI. O, for my sake do you with Fortune chide
Your love and pity doth the impression fill
CXIII. Since I left you, mine eye is in my mind