They That Have Voice Of Lions And

You See Me Here, You Gods, A Poor Old Man, As Full Of Grief As Age; Wretched In Both.

Love Is A Spirit All Compact Of Fire.

He Reads Much; He Is A Great Observer And He Looks Quite Through The Deeds Of Men: He Loves No Plays, As Thou Dost, Antony; He Hears No Music; Seldom He Smiles, And Smiles In Such A Sort As If He Mock'd Himself And Scorn'd His Spirit That Could Be Moved To Smile At Any Thing. Such Men As He Be Never At Heart's Ease Whiles They Behold A Greater Than Themselves, And Therefore Are They Very Dangerous.

There Is No Love-broker In The World Can More Prevail In Man's Commendation With Woman Than Report Of Valor.

A Hundred Thousand Welcomes: I Could Weep, And I Could Laugh; I Am Light And Heavy: Welcome.