To You Your Father Should Be As

As I Hope For Quiet Days, Fair Issue, And Long Life, With Such Love As 'tis Now, The Murkiest Den, The Most Opportune Place, The Strong'st Suggestion Our Worser Genius Can, Shall Never Melt Mine Honour Into Lust, To Take Away The Edge Of That Day's Celebration, When I Shall Think Or Phoebus' Steeds Are Founder'd Or Night Kept Chain'd Below.

It Is The Stars, The Stars Above Us, Govern Our Conditions.

Nothing In His Life Became Him Like Leaving It.

So Shows A Snowy Dove Trooping With Crows As Yonder Lady O'er Her Fellows Shows.

Rumour: "upon My Tongues Continual Slanders Ride, The Which In Every Language I Pronounce, Stuffing The Ears Of Men With False Reports.