Tongues I'll Hang On Every Tree That

Well, In That Hit You Miss. She'll Not Be Hit With Cupid's Arrow. She Hath Dian's Wit, And, In Strong Proff Of Chastity Well Armed, From Love's Weak Childish Bow She Lives Uncharmed. She Will Not Stay The Siege Of Loving Terms, Nor Bide Th' Encounter Of Assailing Eyes, Nor Ope Her Lap To Saint-seducing Gold. O, She Is Rich In Beauty; Only Poor That, When She Dies, With Dies Her Store. Act 1,scene 1, Lines 180-197

How Much Salt Water Thrown Away In Waste/ To Season Love, That Of It Doth Not Taste.

Old Time The Clock-setter.

To Be Now A Sensible Man, By And By A Fool, And Presently A Beast!

It Is A Sin To Be A Mocker.