Sweet Swan Of Avon! What A Sight

There Is No Doctrine Will Do Good Where Nature Is Wanting.

If I Freely May Discover What Should Please Me In My Lover, I Would Have Her Fair And Witty, Savouring More Of Court Than City; A Little Proud, But Full Of Pity; Light And Humorous In Her Toying, Oft Building Hopes, And Soon Destroying, Long, But Sweet In The Enjoying; Neither Too Easy Nor To Hard; All Extremes I Would Have Barr'd.

He Was Not Of An Age, But For All Time!

A New Disease? I Know Not, New Or Old, But It May Well Be Called Poor Mortals Plague For, Like A Pestilence, It Doth Infect The Houses Of The Brain Till Not A Thought, Or Motion, In The Mind, Be Free From The Black Poison Of Suspect.

Tis No Sin Love's Fruits To Steal; But The Sweet Thefts To Reveal; To Be Taken, To Be Seen, These Have Crimes Accounted Been.