Good Wine Is A Good Familiar Creature

Princes Have But Their Titles For Their Glories, An Outward Honor For An Inward Toil; And, For Unfelt Imaginations, They Often Feel A World Of Restless Cares.

The Pow'r That I Have On You Is To Spare You; The Malice Towards You To Forgive You.

God's Will! My Liege, Would You And I Alone, Without More Help, Could Fight This Royal Battle!

The Small Amount Of Foolery Wise Men Have Makes A Great Show.

These Are The Forgeries Of Jealousy; And Never, Since The Middle Summer's Spring, Met We On Hill, In Dale, Forest, Or Mead, By Paved Fountain Or By Rushy Brook, Or In The Beached Margent Of The Sea, To Dance Our Ringlets To The Whistling Wind, But With Thy Brawls Thou Hast Disturbed Our Sport.