Sin, That Amends, Is But Patched With

The Love That Follows Us Sometime Is Our Trouble, Which Still We Thank As Love.

Show Me A Mistress That Is Passing Fair, What Doth Her Beauty Serve But As A Note Where I May Read Who Pass'd That Passing Fair?

By The Pricking Of My Thumbs, Something Wicked This Way Comes.

So Curses All Eve's Daughters Of What Complexion Soever.

I Have Been Long A Sleeper; But I Trust My Absence Doth Neglect No Great Design Which By My Presence Might Have Been Concluded.