O Judgment ! Thou Art Fled To

Nor Age So Eat Up My Invention.

The Seasons Change Their Manners, As The Year Had Found Some Months Asleep And Leapt Them Over.

Good Luck Lies In Odd Numbers.

Now Is The Winter Of Our Discontent.

For What Is Wedlock Forced But A Hell, An Age Of Discord And Continual Strife? Whereas The Contrary Bringeth Bliss, And Is A Pattern Of Celestial Peace.