A Table Full Of Welcome Makes Scarce

Doubting Things Go Ill Often Hurts More Than To Be Sure They Do; For Certainties Either Are Past Remedies, Or, Timely Knowing, The Remedy Then Born.

But Yet I'll Make Assurance Double Sure, And Take A Bond Of Fate: Thou Shalt Not Live.

I Long To Hear The Story Of Your Life, Which Must Take The Ear Strangely.

The Hand That Hath Made You Fair Hath Made You Good.

Methinks I Am A Prophet New Inspired And Thus, Expiring, Do Foretell Of Him: His Rash Fierce Blaze Of Riot Cannot Last, For Violent Fires Soon Burn Out Themselves; Small Show'rs Last Long, But Sudden Storms Are Short; He Tires Betimes That Spurs Too Fast Betimes; With Eager Feeding Doth Choke The Feeder; Light Vanity, Insatiate Cormorant, Consuming Means, Soon Preys Upon Itself.