In Springtime, The Only Pretty Ring Time

'tis Better To Be Vile Than Vile Esteemed, When Not To Be, Receives Reproach Of Being, And The Just Pleasure Lost, Which Is So Deemed, Not By Our Feeling, But By Others' Seeing.

Wisdom And Fortune Combating Together, If That The Former Dare But What It Can, No Chance May Shake It.

Love, Whose Month Is Ever May, Spied A Blossom Passing Fair, Playing In The Wanton Air: Through The Velvet Leaves The Wind, All Unseen Can Passage Find; That The Lover, Sick To Death, Wish'd Himself The Heaven's Breath.

A Man Cannot Make Him Laugh - But That's No Marvel; He Drinks No Wine.

Like A Dull Actor Now, I Have Forgot My Part, And I Am Out, Even To A Full Disgrace.