We Know What We Are, But Know

Feed On Her Damask Cheek: She Pined In Thought, And With A Green And Yellow Melancholy She Sat Like Patience On A Monument, Smiling At Grief

A Light Heart Lives Long.

Many That Are Not Mad Have, Sure, More Lack Of Reason.

Away, You Mouldy Rogue, Away!

For I Have Sworn Thee Fair, And Thought Thee Bright, Who Art As Black As Hell, As Dark As Night.