The Weakest Kind Of Fruit

Many That Are Not Mad Have, Sure, More Lack Of Reason.

I'll Note You In My Book Of Memory.

A Man In All The World's New Fashion Planted, That Hath A Mint Of Phrases In His Brain.

For Now I Stand As One Upon A Rock Environed With A Wilderness Of Sea, Who Marks The Waxing Tide Grow Wave By Wave, Expecting Ever When Some Envious Surge Will In His Brinish Bowels Swallow Him.

To Do A Great Right Do A Little Wrong.