The Rest, Is Silence.

It Is The Witness Still Of Excellency To Put A Strange Face On His Own Perfection.

Speak The Speech, I Pray You, As I Pronounce It To You, Trippingly On The Tongue; But If You Mouth It, As Many Of Your Players Do, I Had As Lief The Town-crier Spoke My Lines.

What Is Light, If Sylvia Be Not Seen? What Is Joy If Sylvia Be Not By?

The Time Of Life Is Short; To Spend That Shortness Basely Were Too Long.

O, That Our Fathers Would Applause Our Loves, To Seal Our Happiness With Hteir Consents!