What Is Light, If Sylvia Be Not

What A Pretty Thing Man Is When He Goes In His Doublet And Hose And Leaves Off His Wit!

When The Sun Shines Let Foolish Gnats Make Sport, But Creep In Crannies When He Hides His Beams.

Thus May Poor Fools Belive False Teachers.

A Glooming Peace This Morning With It Brings; The Sun, For Sorrow, Will Not Show His Head: Go Hence, To Have More Talk Of These Sad Things; Some Shall Be Pardon'd, And Some Punished: For Never Was A Story Of More Woe Than This Of Juliet And Her Romeo.

My Dull Brain Was Wrought With Things Forgotten.