I Have A Soul Of Lead So

A True Repentance Shuns The Evil Itself, More Than The External Suffering Or The Shame.

By-and-by Is Easily Said.

I Had Rather Live With Cheese And Garlic In A Windmill.

Is She Not Passing Fair?

Love, Whose Month Is Ever May, Spied A Blossom Passing Fair, Playing In The Wanton Air: Through The Velvet Leaves The Wind, All Unseen Can Passage Find; That The Lover, Sick To Death, Wish'd Himself The Heaven's Breath.