A Maiden Hath No Tongue--but

Oh, Thou Did'st Then Ne'er Love So Heartily. If Thou Rememb'rest Not The Slightest Folly That Ever Love Did Make Thee Run Inot, Thou Has Not Loved. Of If Thou Has't Not Sat As I Do Now, Wearying They Hearer In Thy Mistress's Praise, Thou Has Not Loved. Of If Thou Hast Not Broke From Company Abruptly, As My Passion Now Makes Me, Thou Has Not Loved. (silvius)

What's Past And What's To Come Is Strew'd With Husks And Formless Ruin Of Oblivion.

Ornament Is But The Guiled Shore To A Most Dangerous Sea.

Macbeth To Witches: What Are These So Wither'd And So Wild In Their Attire, That Look Not Like Th' Inhabitants O' Th' Earth, And Yet Are On 't?

So May The Outward Shows Be Least Themselves; The World Is Still Deceived With Ornament.