There Is Plenty Of Time To Sleep

A Woman Impudent And Mannish Grown Is Not More Loath'd Than An Effeminate Man.

How Wayward Is This Foolish Love That, Like A Testy Babe, Will Scratch The Nurse And Presently, All Humble, Kiss The Rod.

Now Old Desire Doth In His Deathbed Lie, And Young Affection Gapes To Be His Heir; That Fair For Which Love Groan'd For And Would Die, With Tender Juliet Match'd, Is Now Not Fair.

Come What Sorrow Can, It Cannot Countervail The Exchange Of Joy, That One Short Minute Gives Me In Her Sight

He Hath Disgrac'd Me And Hind'red Me Half A Million; Laugh'd At My Losses, Mock'd At My Gains, Scorned My Nation, Thwarted My Bargains, Cooled My Friends, Heated My Enemies. And What's His Reason? I Am A Jew.