Still Constant Is A Wondrous Excellence.

This Man, Lady, Hath Robb'd Many Beasts Of Their Particular Additions: He Is As Valiant As A Lion, Churlish As The Bear, Slow As The Elephant-a Man Into Whom Nature Hath So Crowded Humours That His Valour Is Crush'd Into Folly, His Folly Sauced With Discretion.

He's A Soldier; And For One To Say A Soldier Lies, Is Stabbing.

Right Joyous Are We To Behold Your Face, Most Worthy Brother England; Fairly Met!

For Now I Stand As One Upon A Rock Environed With A Wilderness Of Sea, Who Marks The Waxing Tide Grow Wave By Wave, Expecting Ever When Some Envious Surge Will In His Brinish Bowels Swallow Him.

Lilies That Fester Smell Far Worse Than Weeds.