I Am That Merry Wanderer Of The

And Makes Me Poor Indeed.

So May The Outward Shows Be Least Themselves: The World Is Still Deceived With Ornament. In Law, What Plea So Tainted And Corrupt, But, Being Seasoned With A Gracious Voice, Obscures The Show Of Evil? In Religion, What Damned Error, But Some Sober Brow Will Bless It And Approve It With A Text, Hiding The Grossness With Fair Ornament? There Is No Vice So Simple But Assumes Some Mark Of Virtue On His Outward Parts.

To Be Honest, As This World Goes, Is To Be One Man Picked Out Of Ten Thousand.

Forever, And Forever, Farewell, Cassius! If We Do Meet Again, Why, We Shall Smile; If Not, Why Then This Parting Was Well Made.

Was Ever Woman In This Humour Wooed? Was Ever Woman In This Humour Won?