Take But Degree Away, Untune That String,

I Hold My Peace, Sir? No; No, I Will Speak As Liberal As The North; Let Heaven And Men And Devils, Let Them All, All, All, Cry Shame Against Me, Yet I'll Speak.

I Know A Bank Where The Wild Thyme Blows, Where Oxlips And The Nodding Violet Grows, Quite Over-canopied With Luscious Woodbine, With Sweet Musk-roses And With Eglantine.

Time, Whose Millioned Accidents Creep In Betwixt Vows, And Change Decrees Of Kings, Tan Sacred Beauty, Blunt The Sharpest Intents, Divert Strong Minds To The Course Of Altering Things.

Thou Art An Elm, My Husband, I A Vine, Whose Weakness, Married To Thy Stronger State, Makes Me With Thy Strength To Communicate.

Through Tattered Clothes Great Vices Do Appear; Robes And Furred Gowns Hide All. Plate Sin With Gold And The Strong Lance Of Justice Hurtless Breaks. Arm It In Rags, A Pigmy's Straw Does Pierce It.