1 None that I more love than myself.
2 No, my dearest love, I would not for the world.
3 Come, temperate nymphs, and help to celebrate A contract of true love.
4 All thy vexations Were but my trials of thy love, and thou Hast strangely stood the test.
5 A contract of true love to celebrate, And some donation freely to estate On the blest lovers.
6 One stroke Shall free thee from the tribute which thou payest, And I the King shall love thee.
7 So, of his gentleness, Knowing I loved my books, he furnished me From mine own library with volumes that I prize above my dukedom.
8 Dear, they durst not, So dear the love my people bore me, nor set A mark so bloody on the business, but With colors fairer painted their foul ends.
9 They now are in my power; And in these fits I leave them while I visit Young Ferdinand, whom they suppose is drowned, And his and mine loved darling.
10 As I hope For quiet days, fair issue, and long life, With such love as 'tis now, the murkiest den, The most opportune place, the strong'st suggestion Our worser genius can shall never melt Mine honor into lust to take away The edge of that day's celebration When I shall think or Phoebus' steeds are foundered Or night kept chained below.'