A Good Poet's Made As

And Where She Went, The Flowers Took Thickest Root, As She Had Sow'd Them With Her Odorous Foot.

The Dignity Of Truth Is Lost With Much Protesting.

Follow A Shadow, It Still Flies You, Seem To Fly, It Will Pursue: So Court A Mistress, She Denies You; Let Her Alone, She Will Court You. Say Are Not Women Truly, Then, Styled But The Shadows Of Us Men?

Force Works On Servile Natures, Not The Free.

Out Of Clothes Out Of Countenance, Out Of Countenance Out Of Wit.