Wisely, I Say, I Am A Bachelor.

I Do Desire We May Be Better Strangers.

Such An Act That Blurs The Grace And Blush Of Modesty; Calls Virtue Hypocrite; Takes Off The Rose From The Fair Forehead Of An Innocent Love, And Sets A Blister There; Makes Marriage Vows As False As Dicers' Oaths.

Thou Lump Of Foul Deformity!

A Wicked Conscience Mouldeth Goblins Swift As Frenzy Thoughts.

Upon His Royal Face There Is No Note How Dread An Army Hath Enrounded Him.