Strikes Deeper, Grows With More Pernicious Root.

Say, What Abridgement Have You For This Evening? What Masque, What Music? How Shall We Beguile The Lazy Time If Not With Some Delight?

Shall I Compare Thee To A Summer's Day? Thou Art More Lovely And More Temperate: Rough Winds Do Shake The Darling Buds Of May, And Summer's Lease Hath All Too Short A Date . . .

The Cheek Is Apter Than The Tongue To Tell An Errand.

Methinks You Are My Glass, And Not My Brother: I See By You I Am A Sweet-faced Youth.

Dumb Jewels Often, In Their Silent Kind, More Than Quick Words, Do Move A Woman's Mind.