Who Wooed In Haste, And Means To

Silence Is The Perfect Herald Of Joy.

And Do As Adversaries Do In Law, Strive Mightily, But Eat And Drink As Friends.

If I Shall Be Condemned Upon Surmises, All Proofs Sleeping Else But What Your Jealousies Awake, I Tell You 'tis Rigor And Not Law.

But It Is A Melancholy Of Mine Own, Compounded Of Many Simples, Extracted From Many Objects, And Indeed The Sundry Contemplation Of My Travels, Which, By Often Rumination, Wraps Me In The Most Humorous Sadness.

Some Grief Shows Much Of Love, But Much Of Grief Shows Still Some Want Of Wit.