Men Prize The Thing Ungained More Than

What, No More Ceremony? See, My Women! Against The Blown Rose May They Stop Their Nose That Kneel'd Unto The Buds.

I Prithee Gentle Friend, Let Thy Fair Wisdom, Not Thy Passions, Sway In This Uncivil And Unjust Extent Against Thy Peace.

But When I Came, Alas, To Wive, With Hey, Ho, The Wind And The Rain, By Swaggering Could I Never Thrive, For The Rain It Raineth Every Day.

I'll Go Find A Shadow, And Sigh Till He Come" (phebe)

Love Is A Smoke Rais'd With The Fume Of Sighs; Being Purg'd, A Fire Sparkling In Lovers' Eyes; Being Vex'd, A Sea Nourish'd With Lovers' Tears; What Is It Else? A Madness Most Discreet, A Choking Gall, And A Preserving Sweet.