Love Will Not Be Spurred To What

Have You Not A Moist Eye, A Dry Hand, A Yellow Cheek, A White Beard, A Decreasing Leg, An Increasing Belly? Is Not Your Voice Broken, Your Wind Short, Your Chin Double, Your Wit Single, And Every Part About You Blasted With Antiquity?

And Some That Smile Have In Their Hearts, I Fear, Millions Of Mischiefs.

The Venom Clamours Of A Jealous Woman Poison More Deadly Than A Mad Dog's Tooth.

A Man Should Be What He Seems.

Bell, Book And Candle Shall Not Drive Me Back, When Gold And Silver Becks Me To Come On.