Give It An Understanding, But No Tongue.

Tis Beauty That Doth Oft Make Women Proud; But, God He Knows, Thy Share Thereof Is Small.

Juliet Is The East And I Am The Sun.

Company, Villainous Company, Hath Been The Spoil Of Me.

Fear No More The Heat O' Th' Sun Nor The Furious Winters' Rages; Thou Thy Worldly Task Hast Done, Home Art Gone, And Ta'en Thy Wages. Golden Lads And Girls All Must, As Chimney-sweepers, Come To Dust.

A Wicked Conscience Mouldeth Goblins Swift As Frenzy Thoughts.