Love Will Not Be Spurred To What

Do Not Spread The Compost On The Weeds.

I Had Rather Be A Kitten And Cry Mew Than One Of These Same Metre Ballet-mongers.

Death, A Necessary End, Will Come When It Will Come

Poor Wretches That Depend On Greatness' Favor, Dream As I Have Done; Wake, And Find Nothing.

Bid Me Discourse, I Will Enchant Thine Ear