“Truth may seem, but cannot be;Beauty brag, but 'tis not she:Truth and beauty buriéd be.”

“Look on beauty,And you shall see 'tis purchased by the weight;Which therein works a miracle in nature,Making them lightest that wear most of it:So are those crisped snaky golden locksWhich make such wanton gambols with the wind,Upon supposed fairness, often knownTo be the dowry of a second head,The skull that bred them in the sepulchre.Thus ornament is but the guiled shoreTo a most dangerous sea; the beauteous scarfVeiling an Indian beauty; in a word,The seeming truth which cunning times put onTo entrap the wisest.”

“Tis an ill cook that cannot lick his own fingers.”

“Tis time to fear when tyrants seem to kiss.”

“But from thine eyes my knowledge I derive,And, constant stars, in them I read such art,As truth and beauty shall together thriveIf from thyself to store thou wouldst convert;Or else of thee I prognosticate,Thy end is truth's and beauty's doom and date.”

“Make thee another self for love of me,That beauty still may live in thine or thee”

“For as you were when first yout eye I eyed,such seems your beauty still”