Thou Art Sad; Get Thee A Wife,

Look, What A Horse Should Have He Did Not Lack, Save A Proud Rider On His Back.

The Error Of Our Eye Directs Our Mind. What Error Leads Must Err.

Sir, In My Heart There Was A Kind Of Fighting That Would Not Let Me Sleep.

Better Conquest Never Canst Thou Make Than Arm Thy Constant And Thy Nobler Parts Against Giddy, Loose Suggestions.

Join Not With Grief, Fair Woman, Do Not So, To Make My End Too Sudden.