All Love's Pleasure Shall Not Match Its

Words Without Thoughts Never To Heaven Go.

Eternity Was In Our Lips And Eyes, Bliss In Our Brows' Bent; None Our Parts So Poor But Was A Race Of Heaven.

Some Kinds Of Baseness Are Nobly Undergone.

Better Three Hours Too Soon Than A Minute Too Late.

My Tongue Will Tell The Anger Of My Heart, Or Else My Heart Concealing It Will Break.