It Comes To Pass Oft That A

Most Friendship Is Feigning, Most Loving Mere Folly.

Thy Food Is Such As Hath Been Belch'd On By Infected Lungs.

I Do Repent; But Heaven Hath Pleas'd It So To Punish Me With This, And This With Me, That I Must Be Their Scourge And Minister. I Will Bestow Him, And Will Answer Well The Death I Gave Him. So Again Good Night. I Must Be Cruel Only To Be Kind. Thus Bad Begins And Worse Remains Behind.

Love's Gentle Spring Doth Always Fresh Remain.

O, Beware, My Lord, Of Jealousy; It Is The Green-ey'd Monster, Which Doth Mock The Meat It Feeds On.