To Saucy Doubts And Fears.

Two Loves I Have, Of Comfort And Despair, Which Like Two Spirits Do Suggest Me Still: The Better Angel Is A Man Right Fair, The Worser Spirit A Woman Coloured Ill.

I Am Too Old To Fawn Upon A Nurse, Too Far In Years To Be A Pupil Now.

Good Counselors Lack No Clients.

When Great Leaves Fall, The Winter Is At Hand.

How Slow This Old Moon Wanes! She Lingers My Desires, Like To A Stepdame, Or A Dowager, Long Withering Out A Young Man's Revenue.