Though She Be But Little, She Is

Tear-falling Pity Dwells Not In This Eye.

Cowards Die Many Times Before Their Deaths; The Valiant Never Taste Of Death But Once.

Men Must Endure Their Going Hence, Even As Their Coming Hither. Ripeness Is All.

Out Of My Sight! Thou Dost Infect Mine Eyes.

O Love, Be Moderate, Allay Thy Ecstasy, In Measure Rain Thy Joy, Scant This Excess!