Be More Than Man, Or Thou'rt Less

Poor Heretics There Be,which Think To Establish Dangerous Constancy,but I Have Told Them, ‘since You Will Be True,you Shall Be True To Them, Who Are False To You.

All Occasions Invite His Mercies, And All Times Are His Seasons.

Sleep Is Pain's Easiest Salve, And Doth Fulfil All Offices Of Death, Except To Kill.

To Rage, To Lust, To Write To, To Commend, All Is The Purlieu Of The God Of Love.

I Am Two Fools, I Know, For Loving, And For Saying So.