I Bear A Charmed Life, Which Must

Feed On Her Damask Cheek: She Pined In Thought, And With A Green And Yellow Melancholy She Sat Like Patience On A Monument, Smiling At Grief

What Fates Impose, That Men Must Needs Abide; It Boots Not To Resist Both Wind And Tide.

Lawless Are They That Make Their Wills Their Law.

Good Morrow, Fair Ones; Pray You, If You Know, Where In The Purlieus Of This Forest Stands A Sheep-cote Fenc'd About With Olive Trees?

Don't Trust The Person Who Has Broken Faith Once.