Hope Is A Lover's Staff; Walk Hence

Keep Time! How Sour Sweet Music Is When Time Is Broke And No Proportion Kept! So Is It In The Music Of Men's Lives. I Wasted Time And Now Doth Time Waste Me.

The Brightness Of Her Cheek Would Shame Those Stars As Daylight Doth A Lamp; Her Eyes In Heaven Would Through The Airy Region Stream So Bright That Birds Would Sing, And Think It Were Not Night.

The Little Dogs And All, Tray, Blanch, And Sweetheart-see, They Bark At Me.

Then Is Courtesy A Turncoat. But It Is Certain I Am Loved Of All Ladies, Only You Excepted: And I Would I Could Find In My Heart That I Had Not A Hard Heart; For, Truly, I Love None. Beatrice: A Dear Happiness To Women: They Would Else Have Been Troubled With A Pernicious Suitor. I Thank God And My Cold Blood, I Am Of Your Humour For That: I Had Rather Hear My Dog Bark At A Crow Than A Man Swear He Loves Me. -much Ado About Nothing

We Waste Our Lights In Vain, Like Lamps By Day.