The Deep Of Night Is Crept Upon

I'll Give My Jewels For A Set Of Beads, My Gorgeous Palace For A Hermitage, My Gay Apparel For An Almsman's Gown, My Figured Goblets For A Dish Of Wood, My Scepter For A Palmer's Walking Staff My Subjects For A Pair Of Carved Saints And My Large Kingdom For A Little Grave.

A Maiden Hath No Tongue--but Thought.

Give Me A Staff Of Honor For Mine Age, But Not A Sceptre To Control The World.

Things Base And Vile, Holding No Quantity, Love Can Transpose To Form And Dignity. Love Looks Not With The Eyes, But With The Mind, And Therefore Is Winged Cupid Painted Blind. Nor Hath Love's Mind Of Any Judgment Taste; Wings And No Eyes Figure Unheedy Haste.

What's His Offense? Groping For Trout In A Peculiar River.