The People Are The City.

I Prithee Gentle Friend, Let Thy Fair Wisdom, Not Thy Passions, Sway In This Uncivil And Unjust Extent Against Thy Peace.

But Thou Art Fair, And At Thy Birth, Dear Boy, Nature And Fortune Join'd To Make Thee Great: Of Nature's Gifts Thou Mayst With Lilies Boast, And With The Half-blown Rose; But Fortune, O!

To Move Is To Stir, And To Be Valiant Is To Stand; Therefore, If Tou Art Mov'd, Thou Runst Away. (to Be Angry Is To Move, To Be Brave Is To Stand Still. Therefore, If You're Angry, You'll Run Away.)

The Art Of Our Necessities Is Strange That Can Make Vile Things Precious.

It Is Not Night When I Do See Your Face.