One Fire Burns Out Another's Burning, One

Come Now, What Masques, What Dances Shall We Have To Wear Away This Long Age Of Three Hours Between Our After-supper And Bedtime?

Sleep Knits Up The Raveled Sleeve Of Care.

The Pleasant'st Angling Is To See The Fish Cut With Her Golden Oars The Silver Stream And Greedily Devour The Treacherous Bait.

Would It Not Grieve A Woman To Be Over-mastered By A Piece Of Valiant Dust? To Make An Account Of Her Life To A Clod Of Wayward Marle?

Speak The Speech, I Pray You, As I Pronounced It To You-trippingly On The Tongue; But If You Mouth It, As Many Of Your Players Do, I Had As Lief The Town-crier Spoke My Lines. Nor Do Not Saw The Air Too Much With Your Hand, Thus, But Use All Gently; For In The Very Torrent, Tempest, And As I May Say, The Whirlwind Of Your Passion, You Must Acquire And Beget A Temperance That May Give It Smoothness.