Boldness Be My Friend.

What Drink'st Thou Oft, Instead Of Homage Sweet, But Poisoned Flattery?

Love Thrives Not In The Heart That Shadows Dreadeth

But, Soft! What Light Through Yonder Window Breaks? It Is The East, And Juliet Is The Sun. Arise, Fair Sun, And Kill The Envious Moon, Who Is Already Sick And Pale With Grief, That Thou, Her Maid, Art Far More Fair Than She. Be Not Her Maid, Since She Is Envious; Her Vestal Livery Is But Sick And Green And None But Fools Do Wear It; Cast It Off. It Is My Lady, O, It Is My Love! Oh, That She Knew She Were!

As Merry As The Day Is Long.

Beggar That I Am, I Am Even Poor In Thanks