I Take Thee At Thy Word: Call

Love Hath Made Thee A Tame Snake

One Good Deed Dying Tongueless Slaughters A Thousand Waiting Upon That. Our Praises Are Our Wages.

A Thousand Moral Paintings I Can Show That Shall Demonstrate These Quick Blows Of Fortune's More Pregnantly Than Words.

...and Then, In Dreaming, / The Clouds Methought Would Open And Show Riches / Ready To Drop Upon Me, That When I Waked / I Cried To Dream Again.

Opinion's But A Fool, That Makes Us Scan The Outward Habit By The Inward Man.