The Breach Of Custom Is Breach Of

We Make Ourselves Fools To Disport Ourselves And Spend Our Flatteries To Drink Those Men Upon Whose Age We Void It Up Again With Poisonous Spite And Envy.

Fortune Brings In Some Boats That Are Not Steered.

Teeth Hadst Thou In Thy Head When Thou Wast Born, To Signify Thou Camest To Bite The World.

I Am Too Old To Fawn Upon A Nurse, Too Far In Years To Be A Pupil Now.

If Ever (as That Ever May Be Near) You Meet In Some Fresh Cheek The Power Of Fancy, Then Shall You Know The Wounds Invisible That Love's Keen, Arrows Make.