Now The Fair Goddess, Fortune, Fall Deep

Beware Of Entrance To A Quarrel; But Being In, Bear't That The Opposed May Beware Of Thee. Give Every Man Thy Ear, But Few Thy Voice; Take Each Man's Censure, But Reserve Thy Judgment. Costly Thy Habit As Thy Purse Can Buy, But Not Express'd In Fancy; Rich, Not Gaudy; For The Apparel Oft Proclaims The Man.

The Hand That Hath Made You Fair Hath Made You Good. Pity Is The Virtue Of The Law, And None But Tyrants Use It Cruelly.

Stars, Hide Your Fires; Let Not Light See My Black And Deep Desires.

Is This The Generation Of Love? Hot Blood, Hot Thoughts And Hot Deeds? Why, They Are Vipers. Is Love A Generation Of Vipers?

The King Hath Note Of All That They Intend, By Interception Which They Dream Not Of.