I Do Desire We May Be Better

Cease To Lament For That Thou Canst Not Help; And Study Help For That Which Thou Lamentest.

Now Old Desire Doth In His Deathbed Lie, And Young Affection Gapes To Be His Heir; That Fair For Which Love Groan'd For And Would Die, With Tender Juliet Match'd, Is Now Not Fair.

Foolery, Sir, Does Walk About The Orb Like The Sun; It Shines Everywhere.

How Every Fool Can Play Upon The Word!

And Worse I May Be Yet: The Worst Is Not So Long As We Can Say 'this Is The Worst.