My Mistress' Eyes Are Nothing Like The

Like One Who Having Into Truth, By Telling Of It, Made Such A Sinner Of His Memory, To Credit His Own Lie.

Speak The Speech, I Pray You, As I Pronounced It To You-trippingly On The Tongue; But If You Mouth It, As Many Of Your Players Do, I Had As Lief The Town-crier Spoke My Lines. Nor Do Not Saw The Air Too Much With Your Hand, Thus, But Use All Gently; For In The Very Torrent, Tempest, And As I May Say, The Whirlwind Of Your Passion, You Must Acquire And Beget A Temperance That May Give It Smoothness.

Lives Like A Drunken Sailor On A Mast, Ready With Every Nod To Tumble Down Into The Fatal Bowels Of The Deep.

I'll Fight, Till From My Bones My Flesh Be Hacked.

A Very Little Thief Of Occasion Will Rob You Of A Great Deal Of Patience.