For In My Youth I Never Did

Beggar That I Am, I Am Even Poor In Thanks, But I Thank You; And Sure, Dear Friends, My Thanks Are Too Dear A Halfpenny.

I Love Thee So, That, Maugre All Thy Pride, Nor Wit Nor Reason Can My Passion Hide. Do Not Extort Thy Reasons From This Clause, For That I Woo, Thou Therefore Hast No Cause But Rather Reason Thus With Reason Fetter, Love Sought Is Good, But Given Unsought Better.

But 'tis Common Proof, That Lowliness Is Young Ambition's Ladder, Whereto The Climber-upward Turns His Face; But When He Once Attains The Upmost Round, He Then Turns His Back, Looks In The Clouds, Scorning The Vase Defrees By Which He Did Ascend.

Brevity Is The Soul Of Wit.

Look To Her, Moor, If Thou Has Eyes To See. She Has Deceived Her Father, And May Thee.