A Woman Is A Dish For The

My Cousin's A Fool, And Thou Art Another.

Now Stand You On The Top Of Happy Hours, And Many Maiden Gardens Yet Unset, With Virtuous Wish Would Bear You Living Flowers, Much Liker Than Your Painted Counterfeit: So Should The Lines Of Life That Life Repair Which This, Time's Pencil, Or My Pupil Pen Neither In Inward Worth Nor Outward Fair Can Make You Live Your Self In Eyes Of Men.

I Will Go Wash; And When My Face Is Fair, You Shall Perceive Whether I Blush Or No.

Thou Weigh'st Thy Words Before Thou Givest Them Breath.

Beware Of Entrance To A Quarrel, But, Being In, Bear T That Th' Opposed May Beware Of Thee.