To Pore Upon A Book, To Seek

Ruin Has Taught Me To Ruminate, That Time Will Come And Take My Love Away. This Thought Is As A Death, Which Cannot Choose But Weep To Have That Which It Fears To Lose.

Who Can Be Patient In Extremes?

And My Poor Fool Is Hanged! No, No, No Life! Why Should A Dog, A Horse, A Rat, Have Life, And Thou No Breath At All? Thou'lt Come No More, Never, Never, Never, Never, Never! Pray You, Undo This Button.

Out Of My Sight! Thou Dost Infect Mine Eyes.

Who Would Be So Mocked With Glory, Or To Live But In A Dream Of Friendship, To Have His Pomp And All What State Compounds But Only Painted, Like His Varnished Friends?