Home-keeping Youth Have Ever Homely Wits.

If There Were Reason For These Miseries, Then Into Limits Could I Bind My Woes. If The Winds Rages, Doth Not The Sea Wax Mad, Threat'ning The Welkin With Its Big-swoll'n Face? And Wilt Though Have A Reason For This Coil? I Am The Sea. Hark How Her Sighs Doth Blow. She Is The Weeping Welkin, I The Earth.

Flower Of This Purple Dye, Hit With Cupid's Archery, Sink In Apple Of His Eye.

The Appurtenance Of Welcome Is Fashion And Ceremony.

I Have Seen Roses Damask'd, Red And White, But No Such Roses See I In Her Cheeks.

Thy Friendship Makes Us Fresh.