We will draw the curtain and show you the picture.

The law hath not been dead, though it hath slept.

For who so firm that cannot be seduced?

Good friend for Jesus sake forbeare, To digg the dust encloased heare! Blest be the man that spares thes stones, And curst be he that moves my bones.

Shall I compare thee to a summer day? Thou art more lovely and more temperate... When in eternal lines to time thou growst So long as men can breathe or eyes can see, So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.

Verily, I swear, it is better to be lowly born, and range with humble livers in content, than to be perked up in a glistering grief, and wear a golden sorrow.

Get thee glass eyes, and like a scurvy politician, seem to see the things thou dost not.