The Wound Of Peace Is Surety, Surety

I Think The King Is But A Man As I Am: The Violet Smells To Him As It Doth To Me.

It Is Not Night When I Do See Your Face, Therefore I Think I Am Not In The Night; Nor Doth This Wood Lack Worlds Of Company, For You In My Respect Are All The World: Then How Can It Be Said I Am Alone, When All The World Is Here To Look On Me?

A Good Old Man, Sir. He Will Be Talking. As They Say, When The Age Is In, The Wit Is Out.

I Have Very Poor And Unhappy Brains For Drinking: I Could Well Wish Courtesy Would Invent Some Other Custom Of Entertainment.

And Worse I May Be Yet: The Worst Is Not So Long As We Can Say 'this Is The Worst.