My Life, My Joy, My Food, My

O, My Offence Is Rank, It Smells To Heaven

You Are Made Rather To Wonder At The Things You Hear Than To Work Any.

'by Heaven, That Thou Art Fair, Is Most Infallible True, That Thou Art Beauteous Truth Itself, That Thou Art Lovely. More Fairer Than Fair, Beautiful Than Beauteous, Truer Than Truth Itself, Have Commiseration On Thy Heroical Vassal.

For Which Of My Bad Parts Didst Thou First Fall In Love With Me?

. . . Nothing In His Life Became Him Like The Leaving It; He Died As One That Had Been Studied In His Death To Throw Away The Dearest Thing He Owed, As 'twere A Careless Trifle.