A Scar Nobly Got Is A Good

His Steeds To Water At Those Springs On Chaliced Flowers That Lies; And Winking Mary-buds Begin To Ope Their Golden Eyes: With Every Thing That Pretty Is, My Lady Sweet, Arise.

Trust Not My Reading, Nor My Observations, Which With Experimental Seal Do Warrant The Tenor Of My Book.

Love Is Merely A Madness.

By How Much Unexpected, By So Much We Must Awake Endeavour For Defence; For Courage Mounteth With Occasion.

They Have Been At A Great Feast Of Languages, And Stolen The Scraps.