You Lack The Season Of All Natures,

Rich Honesty Dwells Like A Miser, Sir, In A Poor House; As Your Pearl In Your Foul Oyster.

How Much More Doth Beauty Beauteous Seem By That Sweet Ornament Which Truth Doth Give!

Tis A Cruelty To Load A Fallen Man.

Give Me To Drink Mandragora.

Thou Art An Elm, My Husband, I A Vine, Whose Weakness, Married To Thy Stronger State, Makes Me With Thy Strength To Communicate.