Defer No Time, Delays Have Dangerous Ends.

In Sooth I Know Not Why I Am So Sad. It Wearies Me, You Say It Wearies You; But How I Caught It, Found It, Or Came By It, What Stuff 'tis Made Of, Whereof It Is Born, I Am To Learn.

I Was Not Born Under A Rhyming Planet, Nor I Cannot Woo To In Festival Terms.

But Till All Graces Be In One Woman, One Woman Shall Not Come In My Grace. Rich She Shall Be, That's Certain; Wise, Or I'll None; Virtuous, Or I'll Never Cheapen Her; Fair, Or I'll Never Look On Her; Mild, Or Come Not Near Me; Noble, Or Not I For An Angel; Of Good Discourse, And Excellent Musician And Her Hair Shall Be Of What Colour It Shall Please God.

And How His Audit Stands Who Knows, Save Heaven?

That England, That Was Wont To Conquer Others, Hath Made A Shameful Conquest Of Itself.