Just Death, Kind Umpire Of Men's Miseries.

Sweet Beatrice, Wouldst Thou Come When I Called Thee? Beatrice Yea, Signior, And Depart When You Bid Me. Benedick O, Stay But Till Then! Beatrice 'then' Is Spoken; Fare You Well Now... (much Ado About Nothing)

When The Age Is In, The Wit Is Out

Now Get You To My Lady's Chamber, And Tell Her, Let Her Paint An Inch Thick, To This Favour She Must Come; Make Her Laugh At That.

For Where Is Any Author In The World Teaches Such Beauty As A Woman's Eye?

I Was Not Born Under A Rhyming Planet, Nor I Cannot Woo To In Festival Terms.