The Wheel Is Come Full Circle.

The Barge She Sat In, Like A Burnish'd Throne, Burnt On The Water.

Look On Beauty, And You Shall See 'tis Purchased By The Weight; Which Therein Works A Miracle In Nature, Making Them Lightest That Wear Most Of It: So Are Those Crisped Snaky Golden Locks Which Make Such Wanton Gambols With The Wind Upon Supposed Fairness, Often Known To Be The Dowry Of A Second Head, The Skull That Bred Them In The Sepulchre.

I Desire You In Friendship, And I Will One Way Or Other Make You Amends.

Thoughts Are But Dreams Till Their Effects Are Tried.

The Moon's An Arrant Thief, And Her Pale Fire She Snatches From The Sun.