No Man's Pie Is Freed From His

It Is Not Night When I Do See Your Face.

Like A Red Morn That Ever Yet Betokened, Wreck To The Seaman, Tempest To The Field, Sorrow To The Shepherds, Woe Unto The Birds, Gusts And Foul Flaws To Herdmen And To Herds.

Tis In Ourselves That We Are Thus, Or Thus.

Why, Thou Knowest I Am As Valiant As Hercules, But Beware Instinct. The Lion Will Not Touch The True Prince. Instinct Is A Great Matter. I Was A Coward On Instinct.

Fair Ladies, Masked, Are Roses In Their Bud; Dismasked, The Damask Sweet Commixture Shown, Are Angels Vailing Clouds, Or Roses Blown.