To So Perverse A Sex All Grace

The Perverseness Of My Fate Is Such That He's Not Mine Because He's Mine Too Much.

Be Secret And Discreet; The Fairy Favors Are Lost When Not Concealed.

Not Sharp Revenge, Nor Hell Itself Can Find, A Fiercer Torment Than A Guilty Mind, Which Day And Night Doth Dreadfully Accuse, Condemns The Wretch, And Still The Charge Renews.

But Shakespeare's Magic Could Not Copied Be; Within That Circle None Durst Walk But He.

But Love's A Malady Without A Cure.