Ay, Much Is The Force Of Heaven-bred

And What Art Thou, Thou Idol Ceremony? What Kind Of God Art Thou, That Suffer'st More Of Mortal Griefs Than Do Thy Worshippers?

It Is Not Night When I Do See Your Face, Therefore I Think I Am Not In The Night; Nor Doth This Wood Lack Worlds Of Company, For You In My Respect Are All The World: Then How Can It Be Said I Am Alone, When All The World Is Here To Look On Me?

There's Rosemary, That's For Remembrance; Pray You, Love, Remember: And There Is Pansies, That's For Thoughts. There's Fennel For You, And Columbines: — There 's Rue For You; And Here's Some For Me: — We May Call It, Herb Of Grace O'sundays: — You May Wear Your Rue With A Difference. — There's A Daisy: — I Would Give You Some Violets; But They Withered All, When My Father Died: — They Say, He Made A Good End.

But If The While I Think On Thee, Dear Friend, All Losses Are Restored And Sorrows End.

Hasty Marriage Seldom Proveth Well.