Blessed Are The Peacemakers On Earth.

Unless The Old Adage Must Be Verified, That Beggars Mounted, Run Their Horse To Death.

These Blessed Candles Of The Night.

. . From This Moment The Very Firstlings Of My Heart Shall Be The Firstlings Of My Hand. And Even Now, To Crown My Thoughts With Acts, Be It Thought And Done.

Did My Heart Love Till Now? Forswear It, Sight! For I Ne'er Saw True Beauty Till This Night.

She Dreams Of Him That Has Forgot Her Love; You Dote On Her That Cares Not For Your Love. 'tis Pity Love Should Be So Contrary; And Thinking Of It Makes Me Cry 'alas!