The Instruments Of Darkness Tell Us Truths.

One Man In His Time Plays Many Parts.

The Wounds Invisible That Love's Keen Arrows Make.

My Cousin's A Fool, And Thou Art Another.

Sweets To The Sweet.

O, How I Faint When I Of You Do Write, Knowing A Better Spirit Doth Use Your Name, And In The Praise Thereof Spends All His Might To Make Me Tongue-tied Speaking Of Your Fame.