The Eye Sees All, But The Mind

Do Not Swear By The Moon, For She Changes Constantly. Then Your Love Would Also Change.

Myself--a Prince By Fortune Of My Birth, Near To The King In Blood, And Near In Love Till You Did Make Him Misinterpret Me-- Have Stooped My Neck Under Your Injuries And Sighed My English Breath In Foreign Clouds, Eating The Bitter Bread Of Banishment, Whilst You Have Fed Upon My Signories, Disparked My Parks And Felled My Forest Woods, From My Own Windows Torn My Household Coat, Rased Out My Imprese, Leaving Me No Sign, Save Men's Opinions And My Living Blood, To Show The World I Am A Gentleman.

Dispute Not With Her: She Is Lunatic.

Hope Is A Lover's Staff; Walk Hence With That And Manage It Against Despairing Thoughts.

Hang Those That Talk Of Fear.