Fair is my love, but not so fair as fickle;
Mild as a dove, but neither true nor trusty;
Brighter than glass, and yet, as glass is, brittle;
Softer than wax, and yet, as iron, rusty:
A lily pale, with damask dye to grace her,
None fairer, nor none falser to deface her.
–The Passionate Pilgrim
‘This man’s untrue,’
And knew the patterns of his foul beguiling;
Heard where his plants in others’ orchards grew,
Saw how deceits were gilded in his smiling;
Knew vows were ever brokers to defiling;
Thought characters and words merely but art,
And bastards of his foul adulterate heart.
–A Lover’s Complaint
She burn’d with love, as straw with fire flameth;
She burn’d out love, as soon as straw outburneth…
Was this a lover, or a lecher whether?
Bad in the best, though excellent in neither.
–-The Passionate Pilgrim
Mean Shakespeare Quotes 