To Some Kind Of Men Their Graces

Why, All Delights Are Vain; But That Most Vain, Which, With Pain Purchas'd, Doth Inherit Pain.

A Thousand Moral Paintings I Can Show That Shall Demonstrate These Quick Blows Of Fortune's More Pregnantly Than Words.

For To Be Wise And Love Exceeds Man's Might.

Though Yet Of Hamlet Our Dear Brother's Death The Memory Be Green.

The Teeming Autumn Big With Rich Increase, Bearing The Wanton Burden Of The Prime Like Widowed Wombs After Their Lords Decease.