Swear Me, Kate, Like A Lady As

I Would Challenge You To A Battle Of Wits, But I See You Are Unarmed!

We That Are True Lovers Run Into Strange Capers; But As All Is Mortal In Nature, So Is All Nature In Love Mortal In Folly.

Men's Evil Manners Live In Brass; Their Virtues We Write In Water.

Flower Of This Purple Dye, Hit With Cupid's Archery, Sink In Apple Of His Eye.

God Defend Me From That Welsh Fairy, Lest He Transform Me To A Piece Of Cheese!