Keep Thy Foot Out Of

O All You Host Of Heaven! O Earth! What Else? And Shall I Couple Hell?

And Do So, Love, Yet When They Have Devised What Strainèd Touches Rhetoric Can Lend, Thou, Truly Fair, Wert Truly Sympathized In True Plain Words By Thy True-telling Friend; And Their Gross Painting Might Be Better Used Where Cheeks Need Blood; In Thee It Is Abused.

Too Much Of Water Hast Thou, Poor Ophelia, And Therefore I Forbid My Tears: But Yet It Is Our Trick; Nature Her Custom Holds, Let Shame Say What It Will: When These Are Gone, The Woman Will Be Out. — Adieu, My Lord! I Have A Speech Of Fire, That Fain Would Blaze, But That This Folly Drowns It.

Whatever Praises Itself But In The Deed, Devours The Deed In The Praise.

God's Will! My Liege, Would You And I Alone, Without More Help, Could Fight This Royal Battle!