I Am Ill At These Numbers.

The Apprehension Of The Good Gives But The Greater Feeling To The Worse.

He Was Too Good To Be Where Ill Men Were, And Was The Best Of All Amongst The Rar'st Of Good Ones- Sitting Sadly Hearing Us Praise Our Loves Of Italy For Beauty That Made Barren The Swell'd Boast Of Him That Best Could Speak; For Feature, Laming The Shrine Of Venus Or Straight-pight Minerva, Postures Beyond Brief Nature; For Condition, A Shop Of All The Qualities That Man Loves Woman For; Besides That Hook Of Wiving, Fairness Which Strikes The Eye- Cymbeline.

Reputation Is An Idle And Most False Imposition; Oft Got Without Merit, And Lost Without Deserving.

[marriage Is] A World-without-end Bargain.

Who Finds The Heifer Dead And Bleeding Fresh And Sees Fast-by A Butcher With An Axe, But Will Suspect 'twas He That Made The Slaughter?