To Hold, As 't Were, The Mirror

Adversity's Sweet Milk, Philosophy.

We All Are Men, In Our Own Natures Frail, And Capable Of Our Flesh; Few Are Angels.

Sound Trumpets! Let Our Bloody Colours Wave! And Either Victory, Or Else A Grave.

Oh, Thou Did'st Then Ne'er Love So Heartily. If Thou Rememb'rest Not The Slightest Folly That Ever Love Did Make Thee Run Inot, Thou Has Not Loved. Of If Thou Has't Not Sat As I Do Now, Wearying They Hearer In Thy Mistress's Praise, Thou Has Not Loved. Of If Thou Hast Not Broke From Company Abruptly, As My Passion Now Makes Me, Thou Has Not Loved. (silvius)

I Am Never Merry When I Hear Sweet Music.