There's Rosemary And Rue. These Keep Seeming

Were It Good To Set The Exact Wealth Of All Our States All At One Cast? To Set So Rich A Main On The Nice Hazard Of One Doubtful Hour? It Were Not Good.

All Furnished, All In Arms; All Plum'd Like Estridges That With The Wind Bated Like Eagles Having Lately Bathed; Glittering In Golden Coats Like Images; As Full Of Spirit As The Month Of May And Gorgeous As The Sun At Midsummer; Wanton As Youthful Goats, Wild As Young Bulls.

I Cannot Tell What The Dickens His Name Is.

Who Is It Can Read A Woman?

'tis Brief, My Lord...as Woman's Love.