A Table Full Of Welcome Makes Scarce

Too Much Of Water Hast Thou, Poor Ophelia, And Therefore I Forbid My Tears: But Yet It Is Our Trick; Nature Her Custom Holds, Let Shame Say What It Will: When These Are Gone, The Woman Will Be Out. — Adieu, My Lord! I Have A Speech Of Fire, That Fain Would Blaze, But That This Folly Drowns It.

The Let-alone Lies Not In Your Good Will.

And Do So, Love, Yet When They Have Devised What Strainèd Touches Rhetoric Can Lend, Thou, Truly Fair, Wert Truly Sympathized In True Plain Words By Thy True-telling Friend; And Their Gross Painting Might Be Better Used Where Cheeks Need Blood; In Thee It Is Abused.

Not A Whit, We Defy Augury: There's A Special Providence In The Fall Of A Sparrow. If It Be Now, 'tis Not To Come; If It Be Not To Come, It Will Be Now; If It Be Not Now, Yet It Will Come: The Readiness Is All.

Though Music Oft Hath Such A Charm To Make Bad Good, And Good Provoke To Harm.