I Will Not Trust You, I, Nor

If There Were Reason For These Miseries, Then Into Limits Could I Bind My Woes. If The Winds Rages, Doth Not The Sea Wax Mad, Threat'ning The Welkin With Its Big-swoll'n Face? And Wilt Though Have A Reason For This Coil? I Am The Sea. Hark How Her Sighs Doth Blow. She Is The Weeping Welkin, I The Earth.

Your Praises Will Become Your Wages.

There's Beggary In Love That Can Be Reckoned

Love Looks Not With The Eyes, But With The Mind, And Therefore Is Winged Cupid Painted Blind.

The Little Dogs And All, Tray, Blanch, And Sweetheart-see, They Bark At Me.