Like Patience Gazing On Kings'

But Thou, Contracted To Thine Own Bright Eyes, Feed'st Thy Light's Flame With Self-substantial Fuel, Making A Famine Where Abundance Lies, Thyself Thy Foe, To Thy Sweet Self Too Cruel.

Better Three Hours Too Soon, Than One Hour To Late.

Teach Me, Dear Creature, How To Think And Speak; Lay Open To My Earthy-gross Conceit, Smother'd In Errors, Feeble, Shallow, Weak, The Folded Meaning Of Your Words' Deceit.

Come Not Within The Measure Of My Wrath.

You're In Love? Out Out Of Love? I Love Someone. She Doesn't Love Me.