Our Thoughts Are Ours, Their Ends None

Thine Eyes I Love, And They As Pitying Me, Knowing Thy Heart Torment Me With Disdain, Have Put On Black, And Loving Mourners Be, Looking With Pretty Ruth Upon My Pain.

Love Is Merely A Madness.

So Get The Start Of The Majestic World And Bear The Palm Alone.

When We Are Born We Cry That We Are Come To This Great Stage Of Fools.

He Capers, He Dances, He Has Eyes Of Youth, He Writes Verses, He Speaks Holiday, He Smells April And May.