The Devil Hath Power To Assume A

What Showers Arise, Blown With The Windy Tempest Of My Heart

This Wimpled, Whining, Purblind, Wayward Boy, This Senior Junior, Giant Dwarf...cupid.

Vice Repeated Is Like The Wandering Wind, Blows Dust In Others' Eyes To Spread Itself.

The Love That Follows Us Sometime Is Our Trouble, Which Still We Thank As Love.

But What's So Blessed-fair That Fears No Blot? Thou Mayst Be False, And Yet I Know It Not.