Bait The Hook Well. This Fish Will

An Angel; Or, If Not, An Earthly Paragon.

For She Had Eyes And Chose Me.

Unless Hours Were Cups Of Sack, And Minutes Capons, And Clocks The Tongues Of Bawds, And Dials The Signs Of Leaping-houses, And The Blessed Sun Himself A Fair Hot Wench In Flame-colored Taffeta, I See No Reason Why Thou Shouldst Be So Superfluous To Demand The Time Of The Day.

Women Are As Roses, Whose Fair Flower, Being Once Displayed, Doth Fall That Very Hour.

Adversity Makes Strange Bedfellows.