Nor Age So Eat Up My Invention.

The Patient Must Minister To Himself

Therefore Was I Created With A Stubborn Outside, With An Aspect Of Iron, That When I Come To Woo Ladies, I Fright Them. But, In Faith, Kate, The Elder I Wax, The Better I Shall Appear. My Comfort Is That Old Age, That Ill Layer-up Of Beauty, Can Do No More Spoil Upon My Face. Thou Hast Me, If Thou Hast Me, At The Worst, And Thou Shalt Wear Me, If Thou Wear Me, Better And Better.

Shall I Compare Thee To A Summer's Day?

Sin Will Pluck On Sin.

Bad Is The Trade That Must Play Fool To Sorrow, Ang'ring Itself And Others.