The Cheek Is Apter Than The Tongue

Many Can Brook The Weather That Love Not The Wind.

A Good Sherris-sack Hath A Twofold Operation In It. It Ascends Me Into The Brain,... Makes It Apprehensive, Quick, Forgetive, Full Of Nimble, Fiery, And Delectable Shapes.

Thou Art Sad; Get Thee A Wife, Get Thee A Wife!

Unhappy That I Am, I Cannot Heave My Heart Into My Mouth.

If I Profane With My Unworthiest Hand This Holy Shrine, The Gentle Fine Is This: My Lips, Two Blushing Pilgrims, Ready Stand To Smooth That Rough Touch With A Tender Kiss.