One Touch Of Nature Makes The Whole

He Receives Comfort Like Cold Porridge.

The Eyes Are The Window To Your Soul

Lovers Ever Run Before The Clock

O, Train Me Not, Sweet Mermaid, With Thy Note, To Drown Me In Thy Sister’s Flood Of Tears.

Yet But Three Come One More. Two Of Both Kinds Make Up Four. Ere She Comes Curst And Sad. Cupid Is A Knavish Lad. Thus To Make Poor Females Mad.