The Breach Of Custom Is Breach Of

Friendly Counsel Cuts Off Many Foes.

So May The Outward Shows Be Least Themselves; The World Is Still Deceived With Ornament.

I Prithee Gentle Friend, Let Thy Fair Wisdom, Not Thy Passions, Sway In This Uncivil And Unjust Extent Against Thy Peace.

There Are A Sort Of Men, Whose Visages Do Cream And Mantle, Like A Standing Pond; And Do A Willful Stillness Entertain, With Purpose To Be Dressed In An Opinion Of Wisdom, Gravity Profound Conceit; As Who Should Say, I Am Sir Oracle, And When I Ope My Lips, Let No Dog Bark!

My Only Love Sprung From My Only Hate! Too Early Seen Unknown, And Known Too Late! Prodigious Birth Of Love It Is To Me, That I Must Love A Loathed Enemy.