Look Like The Innocent Flower, But Be

The Violence Of Either Grief Or Joy, Their Own Enactures With Themselves Destroy.

This Is His Uncle's Teaching, This Worcester, Malevolent To You In All Aspects, Which Makes Him Prune Himself And Bristle Up The Crest Of Youth Against Your Dignity.

What Drink'st Thou Oft, Instead Of Homage Sweet, But Poisoned Flattery?

I Can Give The Loser Leave To Chide.

So Holy And So Perfect Is My Love, And I In Such A Poverty Of Grace, That I Shall Think It A Most Plenteous Crop To Glean The Broken Ears After The Man That The Main Harvest Reaps.