The Tartness Of His Face Sours Ripe

I Will Do Anything, Nerissa, Ere I'll Be Married To A Sponge.

Fishes Live In The Sea, As Men Do A-land; The Great Ones Eat Up The Little Ones.

And Be These Juggling Friends No More Believ'd, That Palter With Us In A Double Sense; That Keep The Word Of Promise To Our Ear And Break It To Our Hope.

I Count Myself In Nothing Else So Happy As In A Soul Remembering My Good Friends

An Angel; Or, If Not, An Earthly Paragon.