I Do Not Choose That

There Is Small Disproportion Betwixt A Fool Who Useth Not Wit Because He Hath It Not And Him That Useth It Not When It Should Avail Him.

My Mortal Foe Can No Ways Wish Me A Greater Harm Than England's Hate; Neither Should Death Be Less Welcome Unto Me Than Such A Mishap Betide Me.

If Our Web Be Framed With Rotten Handles, When Our Loom Is Well Nigh Done, Our Work Is New To Begin. God Send The Weaver True Prentices Again, And Let Them Be Denizens.

I Grieve And Dare Not Show My Discontent, I Love And Yet Am Forced To Seem To Hate, I Do, Yet Dare Not Say I Ever Meant, I Seem Stark Mute But Inwardly Do Prate. I Am And Not, I Freeze And Yet Am Burned, Since From Myself Another Self I Turned. My Care Is Like My Shadow In The Sun, Follows Me Flying, Flies When I Pursue It, Stands And Lies By Me, Doth What I Have Done.

I Have Seen Many A Man Turn His Gold Into Smoke, But You Are The First Who Has Turned Smoke Into Gold.