When I Waked, I Cried To Dream

The Hand Of Little Employment Hath The Daintier Sense.

One Half Of Me Is Yours, The Other Half Is Yours, Mine Own, I Would Say; But If Mine, Then Yours, And So All Yours.

It Provokes The Desire, But It Takes Away The Performance

Since Brass, Nor Stone, Nor Earth, Nor Boundless Sea, But Bad Mortality O'ersways Their Power, How With This Rage Shall Beauty Hold A Plea, Whose Action Is No Stronger Than A Flower?

He Lives In Fame That Died In Virtue's Cause.