I Have Supped Full With

Some Grief Shows Much Of Love, But Much Of Grief Shows Still Some Want Of Wit.

I Wonder Men Dare Trust Themselves With Men.

What Should Such Fellows As I Do Crawling Between Earth And Heaven?

Now, My Co-mates And Brothers In Exile, Hath Not Old Custom Made This Life More Sweet Than That Of Painted Pomp? Are Not These Woods More Free From Peril Than The Envious Court?

Let There Be Gall Enough In Thy Ink, Though Thou Write With A Goose-pen, No Matter.