I Am Not Mad; I Would To

What Should We Speak Of When We Are Old As You? When We Shall Hear The Rain And Wind Beat Dark December? How, In This Our Pinching Cave, Shall We Discourse The Freezing Hours Away?

O That Men's Ears Should Be To Counsel Deaf But Not To Flattery!

Prepare For Mirth, For Mirth Becomes A Feast.

Arise, Fair Sun, And Kill The Envious Moon, Who Is Already Sick And Pale With Grief That Thou, Her Maid, Art Far More Fair Than She. . . .

Poor And Content Is Rich, And Rich Enough.