Awake, Dear Heart, Awake. Thou Hast Slept

A Peace Is Of The Nature Of A Conquest; For Then Both Parties Nobly Are Subdued, And Neither Party Loser.

All Days Are Nights To See Till I See Thee, And Nights Bright Days When Dreams Do Show Thee Me.

Not That I Loved Caesar Less, But That I Loved Rome More.

Fair, Kind, And True, Have Often Lived Alone.

Methinks I Am A Prophet New Inspired And Thus, Expiring, Do Foretell Of Him: His Rash Fierce Blaze Of Riot Cannot Last, For Violent Fires Soon Burn Out Themselves; Small Show'rs Last Long, But Sudden Storms Are Short; He Tires Betimes That Spurs Too Fast Betimes; With Eager Feeding Doth Choke The Feeder; Light Vanity, Insatiate Cormorant, Consuming Means, Soon Preys Upon Itself.