My Pride Fell With My Fortunes.

For What Good Turn? Messenger: For The Best Turn Of The Bed.

The Hind That Would Be Mated By The Lion Must Die For Love.

My Mistress' Eyes Are Nothing Like The Sun

Light, Seeking Light, Doth Light Of Light Beguile

Fie, Fie Upon Her! There's Language In Her Eye, Her Cheek, Her Lip, Nay, Her Foot Speaks; Her Wanton Spirits Look Out At Every Joint And Motive Of Her Body.