I Have More Care To Stay Than

Don't Judge A Man's Conscience By Looking At His Face Cause He May Have A Bad Heart.

From Women's Eyes This Doctrine I Derive: They Sparkle Still The Right Promethean Fire; They Are The Books, The Arts, The Academes, That Show, Contain And Nourish All The World.

Captain Of Our Fairy Band, Helena Is Here At Hand, And The Youth, Mistook By Me, Pleading For A Lover's Fee. Shall We Their Fond Pageant See? Lord, What Fools These Mortals Be!

She's Beautiful, And Therefore To Be Wooed; She Is A Woman, Therefore To Be Won.

Have You Not A Moist Eye, A Dry Hand, A Yellow Cheek, A White Beard, A Decreasing Leg, An Increasing Belly? Is Not Your Voice Broken, Your Wind Short, Your Chin Double, Your Wit Single, And Every Part About You Blasted With Antiquity?