They Are But Beggars That Can Count

A Thousand Kisses Buys My Heart From Me; And Pay Them At Thy Leisure, One By One.

Alas, That Love, Whose View Is Muffled Still, Should Without Eyes See Pathways To His Will!

Blest Are Those Whose Blood And Judgment Are So Well Commingled, That They Are Not A Pipe For Fortune's Finger To Sound What Stop She Please.

"fair, Kind, And True" Is All My Argument, "fair, Kind, And True" Varying To Other Words; And In This Change Is My Invention Spent, Three Themes In One, Which Wondrous Scope Affords.

Drink, Sir, Is A Great Provoker Of Three Things . . . Nose-painting, Sleep, And Urine. Lechery, Sir, It Provokes, And Unprovokes; It Provokes The Desire, But It Takes Away The Performance.