She Cannot Love, Nor Take

Never; He Will Not: Age Cannot Wither Her, Nor Custom Stale Her Infinite Variety: Other Women Cloy The Appetites They Feed: But She Makes Hungry Where Most She Satisfies.

Rumour: "upon My Tongues Continual Slanders Ride, The Which In Every Language I Pronounce, Stuffing The Ears Of Men With False Reports.

Methinks Sometimes I Have No More Wit Than A Christian Or An Ordinary Man Has; But I Am A Great Eater Of Beef, And I Believe That Does Harm To My Wit.

Behold The Threaden Sails, Borne With The Invisible And Creeping Wind, Draw The Huge Bottoms Through The Furrow'd Sea, Breasting The Lofty Surge

Plutus Himself, That Knows The Tinct And Multiplying Med'cine, Hath Not In Nature's Mystery More Science Than I Have In This Ring.