As Many Arrows, Loosed Several Ways, Come

When Remedies Are Past, The Griefs Are Ended By Seeing The Worst, Which Late On Hopes Depended.

Nay, Had I Pow'r, I Should Pour The Sweet Milk Of Concord Into Hell, Uproar The Universal Peace, Confound All Unity On Earth.

I Do Not Hate A Proud Man, As I Do Hate The Engendering Of Toads.

This Day's Black Fate On More Days Doth Depend; This But Begins The Woe, Others Must End.

One Woman Is Fair, Yet I Am Well; Another Is Wise, Yet I Am Well; Another Virtuous, Yet I Am Well; But Till All Graces Be In One Woman, One Woman Shall Not Come In My Grace.