Thou Knowest, Winter Tames Man,

Like The Lily That Once Was Mistress Of The Field And Flourished, I'll Hang My Head And Perish.

See What A Ready Tongue Suspicion Hath!

Love Is Not Love Which Alters When It Alteration Finds, Or Bends With The Remover To Remove. O, No! It Is An Ever-fixed Mark, That Looks On Tempests And Is Never Shaken. It Is The Star To Every Wandering Bark, Whose Worth's Unknown, Although His Height Be Taken.

The Earth, That Is Nature's Mother, Is Her Tomb.

Boundless Intemperance In Nature Is A Tyranny. It Hath Been Th' Untimely Emptying Of The Happy Throne And Fall Of Many Kings.