Wilt Thou Whip Thine Own Faults In

We Are Not Ourselves When Nature, Being Oppressed, Commands The Mind To Suffer With The Body.

Be Merry, And Employ Your Chiefest Thoughts To Courtship And Such Fair Ostents Of Love As Shall Conveniently Become You There.

The Fool Multitude, That Choose By Show, Not Learning More Than The Fond Eye Doth Teach.

But Love Is Blind And Lovers Cannot See

Ay, But To Die And Go We Know Not Where; To Lie In Cold Obstrution And To Rot; This Sensible Warm Motion To Become A Kneaded Clod; And The Delighted Spirit To Bathe In Fiery Floods Or To Reside In Thrilling Regions Of Thick-ribbed Ice; To Be Imprison'd In The Viewless Winds, And Blown With Restless Violence Round About The Pendant World.