When We Are Born We Cry That

I Am A Feather For Each Wind That Blows

I Have Not Slept One Wink.

Well, In That Hit You Miss. She'll Not Be Hit With Cupid's Arrow. She Hath Dian's Wit, And, In Strong Proff Of Chastity Well Armed, From Love's Weak Childish Bow She Lives Uncharmed. She Will Not Stay The Siege Of Loving Terms, Nor Bide Th' Encounter Of Assailing Eyes, Nor Ope Her Lap To Saint-seducing Gold. O, She Is Rich In Beauty; Only Poor That, When She Dies, With Dies Her Store. Act 1,scene 1, Lines 180-197

Their Manners Are More Gentle, Kind, Than Of Our Human Generation You Shall Find.

I Love Thee, And It Is My Love That Speaks