The Rose Looks Fair, But Fairer We

Through Tattered Clothes Great Vices Do Appear; Robes And Furred Gowns Hide All. Plate Sin With Gold And The Strong Lance Of Justice Hurtless Breaks. Arm It In Rags, A Pigmy's Straw Does Pierce It.

Hear Me Profess Sincerely: Had I A Dozen Sons, Each In My Love Alike, And None Less Dear Than Thine And My Good Marcius, I Had Rather Have Eleven Die Nobly For Their Country Than One Voluptuously Surfeit Out Of Action.

I Have No Other But A Woman's Reason: I Think Him So, Because I Think Him So.

No Sooner Met But They Looked; No Sooner Looked But They Loved; No Sooner Loved But They Sighed; No Sooner Sighed But They Asked One Another The Reason; No Sooner Knew The Reason But They Sought The Remedy; And In These Degrees Have They Made A Pair Of Stairs To Marriage.

Who Are The Violets Now That Strew The Lap Of The New-come Spring?