Experience teacheth us
That resolution 's a sole help at need:
And this, my lord, our honour teacheth us,
That we be bold in every enterprise:
Then since there is no way, but fight or die,
Be resolute, my lord, for victory.
If I could write the beauty of your eyes And in fresh numbers number all your graces, The age to come would say, 'This poet lies; Such heavenly touches ne'er touch'd earthly faces.'
That thou art blamed shall not be thy defect,
For slander's mark was ever yet the fair;
The ornament of beauty is suspect,
A crow that flies in heaven's sweetest air.