Have I Caught Thee, My Heavenly Jewel?

What A Deformed Thief This Fashion Is.

I Will Be Treble-sinewed, Hearted, Breathed, And Fight Maliciously; For When Mine Hours Were Nice And Lucky, Men Did Ransom Lives Of Me For Jests; But Now I'll Set My Teeth And Send To Darkness All That Stop Me.

The Weary Sun Hath Made A Golden Set And By The Bright Tract Of His Fiery Car Gives Token Of A Goodly Day To-morrow.

The Sun With One Eye Vieweth All The World.

Bell, Book And Candle Shall Not Drive Me Back, When Gold And Silver Becks Me To Come On.