Sin Will Pluck On Sin.

We That Are True Lovers Run Into Strange Capers; But As All Is Mortal In Nature, So Is All Nature In Love Mortal In Folly.

Flower Of This Purple Dye, Hit With Cupid's Archery, Sink In Apple Of His Eye.

What A Piece Of Work Is A Man, How Noble In Reason, How Infinite In Faculties, In Form And Moving How Express And Admirable, In Action How Like An Angel, In Apprehension How Like A God.

Hold, Or Cut Bowstrings.

And To The English Court Assemble Now, From Every Region, Apes Of Idleness!