I Can No Other Answer Make, But,

To Show An Unfelt Sorrow Is An Office Which The False Man Does Easy.

O, I Do Not Like That Paying Back, 'tis A Double Labor.

Ay, That Incestuous, That Adulterate Beast, With Witchcraft Of His Wit, With Traitorous Gifts- O Wicked Wit And Gifts, That Have The Power So To Seduce!

Get Thee Glass Eyes, And Like A Scurvy Politician, Seem To See The Things Thou Dost Not.

You Cannot Call It Love, For At Your Age The Heyday In The Blood Is Tame