Who knows if Shakespeare might not have thought less if he had read more?
Early, bright, transient, chaste as morning dew, She sparkled, was exhaled, and went to heaven.
The booby father craves a booby son, And by Heaven's blessing thinks himself undone.
A land of levity is a land of guilt.
Who combats with a brother, wounds himself.
To know the world, not love her, is thy point; She gives but little, nor that little, long.