Madness In Great Ones Must Not Unwatched

What Is Your Substance, Whereof Are You Made, That Millions Of Strange Shadows On You Tend? Since Everyone Hath Every One, One Shade, And You, But One, Can Every Shadow Lend. Describe Adonis, And The Counterfeit Is Poorly Imitated After You. On Helen’s Cheek All Art Of Beauty Set, And You In Grecian Tires Are Painted New. Speak Of The Spring And Foison Of The Year; The One Doth Shadow Of Your Beauty Show, The Other As Your Bounty Doth Appear, And You In Every Blessèd Shape We Know. In All External Grace You Have Some Part, But You Like None, None You, For Constant Heart.

You Are Made Rather To Wonder At The Things You Hear Than To Work Any.

He That Keeps Not Crust Nor Crum Weary Of All, Shall Want Some.

Infirm Of Purpose! Give Me The Daggers: The Sleeping And The Dead Are But As Pictures: ‘tis The Eye Of Childhood That Fears A Painted Devil

I Do Love My Country's Good With A Respect More Tender, More Holy And Profound, Then Mine Own Life, My Dear Wife's Estimate, Her Womb Increase, And Treasure Of My Loins.