If Ever Any Beauty I Did See,

As Soon As There Was Two There Was Pride.

What If This Present Were The World's Last Night?

Goe And Catche A Falling Starre, Get With Child A Mandrake Root, Tell Me, Where All Past Yeares Are, Or Who Cleft The Divel's Foot. Teach Me To Hear Mermaides' Singing, Or To Keep Of Envies Stinging, And Finde What Winde Serves To Advance An Honest Minde.

No Spring Nor Summer Beauty Hath Such Grace As I Have Seen In One Autumnal Face.

Lust-bred Diseases Rot Thee.