He's All My Exercise, My Mirth, My

If She Be Fair And Wise, Fairness And Wit, The One's For Use, The Other Useth It.

Were Beauty Under Twenty Locks Kept Fast, Yet Love Breaks Through And Picks Them All At Last.

If Thou Remeber'st Not The Slightest Folly That Ever Love Did Make Thee Run Into, Thou Hast Not Lov'd

The Lady Doth Protest Too Much, Methinks.

Tis In My Memory Lock'd, And You Yourself Shall Keep The Key Of It.