I Profess Not Talking: Only This, Let

On The Bat’s Back I Do Fly After Summer Merrily.

Where Shall We Three Meet Again In Thunder, Lightning, Or In Rain? When The Hurlyburly 's Done, When The Battle 's Lost And Won

The Blood Of Youth Burns Not With Such Excess As Gravity's Revolt To Wantonness.

Alack, There Lies More Peril In Thine Eye Than Twenty Of Their Swords: Look Thou But Sweet, And I Am Proof Against Their Enmity.

Lawless Are They That Make Their Wills Their Law.