My Age Is As A Lusty Winter,

Thy Friendship Makes Us Fresh.

After Your Death You Were Better Have A Bad Epitaph Than Their Ill Report While You Live.

If It Be You That Stirs These Daughters' Hearts Against Their Father, Fool Me Not So Much To Bear It Tamely; Touch Me With Noble Anger, And Let Not Women's Weapons, Water Drops, Stain My Man's Cheeks.

Trust Not Your Daughter's Minds By What You See Them Act.

Let Me Confess That We Two Must Be Twain, Although Our Undivided Loves Are One.