To Show Our Simple Skill, That Is

Time Doth Transfix The Flourish Set On Youth And Delves The Parallels In Beauty's Brow.

Oh What Fools We Mortals Are.

All Hoods Make Not Monks.

Love Looks Not With The Eyes, But With The Mind, And Therefore Is Winged Cupid Painted Blind.

She Moves Me Not, Or Not Removes At Least Affection's Edge In Me.