Love Thrives Not In The Heart That

And Some That Smile Have In Their Hearts, I Fear, Millions Of Mischiefs.

Love Is Blind And Lovers Cannot See The Pretty Follies That Themselves Commit

One Sin, I Know, Another Doth Provoke. Murder's As Near To Lust As Flame To Smoke.

Men From Children Nothing Differ.

O God, O God, How Weary, Stale, Flat, And Unprofitable Seem To Me All The Uses Of This World!