If It Will Feed Nothing

I Feel Within Me A Peace Above All Earthly Dignities, A Still And Quiet Conscience.

He Does Me Double Wrong That Wounds Me With The Flatteries Of His Tongue.

My Mistress' Eyes Are Nothing Like The Sun

Now Would I Give A Thousand Furlongs Of Sea For An Acre Of Barren Ground.

Why, This Hath Not A Finger's Dignity.