Misery Acquaints A Man With Strange Bedfellows.

This Most Excellent Canopy, The Air, Look You, This Brave O-erhanging Firmament, This Majestical Roof Fretted With Golden Fire.

Commit The Oldest Sins The Newest Kind Of Ways.

Men Judge By The Complexion Of The Sky The State And Inclination Of The Day.

Under The Colour Of Commending Him I Have Access My Own Love To Prefer; But Silvia Is Too Fair, Too True, Too Holy, To Be Corrupted With My Worthless Gifts.

Gnarling Sorrow Hath Less Power To Bite The Man That Mocks At It And Sets It Light.