Fair, Kind, And True, Have Often Lived

My Hands Are Of Your Color, But I Shame To Wear A Heart So White.

Foolery, Sir, Does Walk About The Orb Like The Sun; It Shines Everywhere.

Fortune Is Merry, And In This Mood Will Give Us Anything.

Ay, But Hearken, Sir; Though The Chameleon Love Can Feed On The Air, I Am One That Am Nourished By My Victuals, And Would Fain Have Meat.

Happy Thou Art Not; For What Thou Hast Not, Still Thou Strivest To Get; And What Thou Hast, Forgettest.