The Amity That Wisdom Knits Not, Folly

The Hand That Hath Made You Fair Hath Made You Good.

So They Loved As Love In Twain Had The Essence But In One; Two Distinct, Divisions None.

This Fellow Is Wise Enough To Play The Fool; And To Do That Well Craves A Kind Of Wit: He Must Observe Their Mood On Whom He Jests, The Quality Of Persons, And The Time, And, Like The Haggard, Check At Every Feather That Comes Before His Eye. This Is A Practise As Full Of Labour As A Wise Man's Art For Folly That He Wisely Shows Is Fit; But Wise Men, Folly-fall'n, Quite Taint Their Wit.

We Cannot Conceive Of Matter Being Formed Of Nothing, Since Things Require A Seed To Start From... Therefore There Is Not Anything Which Returns To Nothing, But All Things Return Dissolved Into Their Elements.

Be Merry, And Employ Your Chiefest Thoughts To Courtship And Such Fair Ostents Of Love As Shall Conveniently Become You There.