Britain Is A World By Itself, And

The Play's The Thing.

Beshrew That Heart That Makes My Heart To Groan For That Deep Wound It Gives My Friend And Me; Is't Not Enough To Torture Me Alone, But Slave To Slavery My Sweet'st Friend Must Be?

O, Spirit Of Love, How Quick And Fresh Art Thou!

A Book? O, Rare One, Be Not, As Is Our Fangled World, A Garment Nobler Than That It Covers.

Love Yourself; And In That Love Not Unconsidered Leave Your Honor.