I Cannot Tell What The Dickens His

He Wears The Rose Of Youth Upon Him.

Nor Age So Eat Up My Invention.

Your Wisdom Is Consum'd In Confidence. Do Not Go Forth To-day.

I Have Had A Most Rare Vision. I Have Had A Dream, Past The Wit Of Man To Say What Dream It Was.

My Falcon Now Is Sharp And Passing Empty, And Till She Stoop She Must Not Be Full-gorged, For Then She Never Looks Upon Her Lure.