He That Hath The Steerage Of My

Not Stepping Over The Bounds Of Modesty.

...and Then, In Dreaming, / The Clouds Methought Would Open And Show Riches / Ready To Drop Upon Me, That When I Waked / I Cried To Dream Again.

They Are But Beggars That Can Count Their Worth.

So Many Horrid Ghosts.

O Most Delicate Fiend! Who Is't Can Read A Woman? Is There More?