...an Old Man Is Twice A Child.

Religious Canons, Civil Laws, Are Cruel; Then What Should War Be?

And In Some Perfumes There Is More Delight Than In The Breath That From My Mistress Reeks. I Love To Hear Her Speak, Yet Well I Know That Music Hath A Far More Pleasing Sound.

But I Am Constant As The Northern Star, Of Whose True Fixed And Resting Quality There Is No Fellow In The Firmament.

Let Men Say We Be Men Of Good Government, Being Governed, As The Sea Is, By Our Noble And Chaste Mistress The Moon, Under Whose Countenance We Steal.

Love Is A Smoke Made With The Fume Of Sighs.