Methought I Was Enamour'd Of An Ass.

My Prophecy Is But Half His Journey Yet, For Yonder Walls, That Pertly Front Your Town, Yon Towers, Whose Wanton Tops Do Buss The Clouds, Must Kiss Their Own Feet.

Those That Do Teach Young Babes Do It With Gentle Means And Easy Tasks.

Graze On My Lips; And If Those Hills Be Dry, Stray Lower, Where The Pleasant Fountains Lie.

I Had Rather Hear My Dog Bark At A Crow, Than A Man Swear He Loves Me.

That Which Is Now A Horse, Even With A Thought The Rack Dislimms, And Makes It Indistinct As Water Is In Water