A Time, Methinks, Too Short To Make

Now Old Desire Doth In His Deathbed Lie, And Young Affection Gapes To Be His Heir; That Fair For Which Love Groan'd For And Would Die, With Tender Juliet Match'd, Is Now Not Fair.

O Judgment ! Thou Art Fled To Brutish Beasts, And Men Have Lost Their Reason !

He That Is Giddy Thinks The World Turns Round.

But Since The Affairs Of Men Rests Still Incertain, Let's Reason With The Worst That May Befall.

But Fish Not With This Melancholy Bait For This Fool Gudgeon, This Opinion.