My heart prays for him, though my tongue do curse.

I cannot, nor I will not, hold me still;My tongue, though not my heart, shall have his will.

He prays but faintly and would be denied.

For murder, though it have no tongue, will speak - With most miraculous organ

He hath a heart as sound as a bell, and his tongue is the clapper; for what his heart thinks his tongue speaks.

Well could I curse away a winter's night,Though standing naked on a mountain top,Where biting cold would never let grass grow,And think it but a minute spent in sport.