Fortune Is Merry, And In This Mood

If You Would Persuade, You Must Appeal To Interest Rather Than Intellect. We Are Advertis'd By Our Loving Friends.

Thou Weedy Elf-skinned Canker-blossom!

The Love Of Wicked Men Converts To Fear; That Fear To Hate, And Hate Turns One Or Both To Worthy Danger And Deserved Death.

It Is Thyself, Mine Own Self's Better Part; Mine Eye's Clear Eye, My Dear Heart's Dearer Heart; My Food, My Fortune, And My Sweet Hope's Aim, My Sole Earth's Heaven, And My Heaven's Claim.

Since Brass, Nor Stone, Nor Earth, Nor Boundless Sea, But Bad Mortality O'ersways Their Power, How With This Rage Shall Beauty Hold A Plea, Whose Action Is No Stronger Than A Flower?