The Sight Of Lovers Feedeth Those In

Waste Not Thy Time In Windy Argument But Let The Matter Drop.

O, Men's Vows Are Women's Traitors! All Good Seeming, By Thy Revolt, O Husband, Shall Be Thought Put On For Villainy, Not Born Where't Grows, But Worn A Bait For Ladies.

Some Smack Of Age In You, Some Relish Of The Saltness Of Time.

I Will Speak Daggers To Her, But Use None.

Love Is Merely A Madness, And, I Tell You, Deserves As Well A Dark House And A Whip As Madmen Do.