What Time Hath Scanted Men

O Helena, Goddess, Nymph, Perfect, Divine! To What, My Love, Shall I Compare Thine Eyne? Crystal Is Muddy. O, How Ripe In Show Thy Lips, Those Kissing Cherries, Tempting Grow!

I Am Not Bound To Please Thee With My Answer.

Journeys End In Lovers Meeting.

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

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.