Prepare For Mirth, For Mirth Becomes A

Every Fair From Fair Sometime Declines

To Hold, As 't Were, The Mirror Up To Nature.

It Is Not In The Stars To Hold Our Destiny But In Ourselves.

A Woman Moved Is Like A Fountain Troubled, Muddy, Ill-seeming, Thick, Bereft Of Beauty.

Had I But Served My God With Half The Zeal I Served My King, He Would Not In Mine Age Have Left Me Naked To Mine Enemies.