Fill All Thy Bones With Aches.

Preferment Goes By Letter And Affection, And Not By Old Gradation, Where Each Second Stood Heir To Th's First.

Mind Your Speech A Little Lest You Should Mar Your Fortunes.

How Now, Wit! Whither Wander You?

Now 'tis Spring, And Weeds Are Shallow-rooted; Suffer Them Now And They'll O'ergrow The Garden.

I Have Lov'd Her Ever Since I Saw Her; And Still I See Her Beautiful