Good Wine Needs No Bush.

The Quality Of Mercy Is Not Strain'd, It Droppeth As The Gentle Rain From Heaven Upon The Place Beneath: It Is Twice Blest; It Blesseth Him That Gives And Him That Takes: 'tis Mightiest In The Mightiest: It Becomes The Throned Monarch Better Than His Crown; His Sceptre Shows The Force Of Temporal Power, The Attribute To Awe And Majesty, Wherein Doth Sit The Dread And Fear Of Kings; But Mercy Is Above This Sceptred Sway; It Is Enthroned In The Hearts Of Kings, It Is An Attribute To God Himself; And Earthly Power Doth Then Show Likest God's When Mercy Seasons Justice.

We That Are True Lovers Run Into Strange Capers; But As All Is Mortal In Nature, So Is All Nature In Love Mortal In Folly.

The Wheel Is Come Full Circle.

There Is None Of My Uncle's Marks Upon You; He Taught Me How To Know A Man In Love; In Which Cage Of Rushes I Am Sure You Are Not Prisoner.

Hereafter, In A Better World Than This, I Shall Desire More Love And Knowledge Of You