When Sorrows Come, They Come Not Single

Thou Sodden-witted Lord! Thou Hast No More Brain Than I Have In Mine Elbows.

Our Wills And Fates Do So Contrary Run, That Our Devices Still Are Overthrown; Our Thoughts Are Ours, Their Ends None Of Our Own.

What Is Done Cannot Be Now Amended.

With Love's Light Wings Did I O'er-perch These Walls, For Stony Limits Cannot Hold Love Out

That Strain Again! It Had A Dying Fall: O, It Came O'er My Ear Like The Sweet Sound That Breathes Upon A Bank Of Violets, Stealing And Giving Odour! Enough; No More: 'tis Not So Sweet As It Was Before.