Nature Does Require Her Time Of Preservation,

O, Beware, My Lord, Of Jealousy; It Is The Green-ey'd Monster, Which Doth Mock The Meat It Feeds On.

The Summer's Flow'r Is To The Summer Sweet, Though To Itself It Only Live And Die' But If That Flow'r With Base Infection Meet, The Basest Weed Outbraves His Dignity: For Sweetest Things Turn Sourest By Their Deeds; Lilies That Fester Smell Far Worse Than Weeds.

When Most I Wink, Then Do My Eyes Best See

Our Remedies Oft In Ourselves Do Lie, Which We Ascribe To Heaven.

There Is No Love-broker In The World Can More Prevail In Man's Commendation With Woman Than Report Of Valor.