Love Is Like A Child, That Longs

Is It Not Strange, That Sheep's Guts Should Hale Souls Out Of Men's Bodies!

Now Old Desire Doth In His Deathbed Lie, And Young Affection Gapes To Be His Heir; That Fair For Which Love Groan'd For And Would Die, With Tender Juliet Match'd, Is Now Not Fair.

Promising Is The Very Air O' The Time; It Opens The Eyes Of Expectation.

I’ll Look To Like, If Looking Liking Move; But No More Deep Will I Endart Mine Eye Than Your Consent Gives Strength To Make It Fly.

Temptation: The Fiend At My Elbow.