Wisdom Cries Out In The Streets, And

If After Every Tempest Come Such Calms, May The Winds Blow Till They Have Waken'd Death!

It Is My Lady! *sighs* O, It Is My Love! O, That She Knew She Were! She Speaks, Yet She Sais Nothing. What Of That? Her Eye Discourses; I Will Answer It. I Am Too Bold, 'tis Not To Me She Speaks; Two Of The Fairest Stars In All The Heaven, Having Some Business, Do Entreat Her Eyes To Twinkle In Their Spheres Till They Return.

O Momentary Grace Of Mortal Men, Which We More Hunt For Than The Grace Of God!

This Day's Black Fate On More Days Doth Depend; This But Begins The Woe, Others Must End.

Love Adds A Precious Seeing To The Eye.