And She's Fair I Love.

O Shame, Where Is Thy Blush?

To Me, Fair Friend, You Never Can Be Old, For As You Were When First Your Eye I Ey'd, Such Seems Your Beauty Still.

Thou Art A Soul In Bliss; But I Am Bound Upon A Wheel Of Fire; That Mine Own Tears Do Scald Like Molten Lead.

Let Us, Like Merchants, Show Our Foulest Wares, And Think Perchance They'll Sell; If Not, The Lustre Of The Better Yet To Show Shall Show The Better.

I Can No Longer Live By Thinking.