Many a man his life hath sold
But my outside to behold:
[069] Gilded tombs do worms infold.
070 Had you been as wise as bold,
Young in limbs, in judgment old,
[072] Your answer had not been inscroll’d:
Fare you well; your suit is cold.
Cold, indeed; and labour lost:
075 Then, farewell, heat, and welcome, frost!
Portia, adieu. I have too grieved a heart