Awake, Dear Heart, Awake. Thou Hast Slept

How Slow This Old Moon Wanes! She Lingers My Desires, Like To A Stepdame, Or A Dowager, Long Withering Out A Young Man's Revenue.

Adversity Makes Strange Bedfellows.

Thieves For Their Robbery Have Authority When Judges Steal Themselves.

What Is A Man, If His Chief Good And Market Of His Time Be But To Sleep And Feed? A Beast, No More. Sure He That Made Us With Such Large Discourse, Looking Before And After, Gave Us Not That Capability And God-like Reason To Fust In Us Unused.

One Man In His Time Plays Many Parts.