Many That Are Not Mad Have, Sure,

My Crown Is In My Heart, Not On My Head; Not Decked With Diamonds And Indian Stones, Nor To Be Seen: My Crown Is Called Content, A Crown It Is That Seldom Kings Enjoy.

Let Us Be Diana's Foresters, Gentlemen Of The Shade, Minions Of The Moon

Wisely, And Slow. They Stumble That Run Fast.

God Has Given You One Face, And You Make Yourself Another.

Well, In That Hit You Miss. She'll Not Be Hit With Cupid's Arrow. She Hath Dian's Wit, And, In Strong Proff Of Chastity Well Armed, From Love's Weak Childish Bow She Lives Uncharmed. She Will Not Stay The Siege Of Loving Terms, Nor Bide Th' Encounter Of Assailing Eyes, Nor Ope Her Lap To Saint-seducing Gold. O, She Is Rich In Beauty; Only Poor That, When She Dies, With Dies Her Store. Act 1,scene 1, Lines 180-197