Commit The Oldest Sins The Newest Kind

She Says I Am Not Fair, That I Lack Manners; She Calls Me Proud, And That She Could Not Love Me, Were Man As Rare As Phoenix.

O The World Is But A Word; Were It All Yours To Give It In A Breath, How Quickly Were It Gone!

The Cunning Livery Of Hell.

Not An Angel Of The Air, Bird Melodious Or Bird Fair, Be Absent Hence!

Weariness Can Snore Upon The Flint When Resting Sloth Finds The Down Pillow Hard.