That Affable Familiar Ghost Which Nightly Gulls

O, Spirit Of Love, How Quick And Fresh Art Thou!

Have You Not Love Enough To Bear With Me, When That Rash Humor Which My Mother Gave Me Makes Me Forgetful.

Treason And Murder Ever Kept Together, As Two Yoke-devils Sworn To Either's Purpose, Working So Grossly In A Natural Cause That Admiration Did Not Whoop At Them; But Thou, 'gainst All Proportion, Didst Bring In Wonder To Wait On Treason And On Murder; And Whatsoever Cunning Fiend It Was That Wrought Upon Thee So Preposterously Hath Got The Voice In Hell For Excellence.

Hear My Soul Speak. Of The Very Instant That I Saw You, Did My Heart Fly At Your Service

Men Are April When They Woo, December When They Wed. Maids Are May When They Are Maids, But The Sky Changes When They Are Wives.