There's Beggary In Love That Can Be

What Early Tongue So Sweet Saluteth Me? Young Son, It Argues A Distemper'd Head So Soon To Bid Good Morrow To Thy Bed: Care Keeps His Watch In Every Old Man's Eye, And Where Care Lodges, Sleep Will Never Lie; But Where Unbruised Youth With Unstuff'd Brain Doth Couch His Limbs, There Golden Sleep Doth Reign.

Affliction Is Enamoured Of Thy Parts, And Thou Art Wedded To Calamity.

Juliet Is The East And I Am The Sun.

Unless The Old Adage Must Be Verified, That Beggars Mounted, Run Their Horse To Death.

Nimble Thought Can Jump Both Sea And Land.