Each Present Joy Or Sorrow Seems The

Well Could He Ride, And Often Men Would Say, "that Horse His Mettle From His Rider Takes: Proud Of Subjection, Noble By The Sway, What Rounds, What Bounds, What Course, What Stop He Makes!" And Controversy Hence A Question Takes, Whether The Horse By Him Became His Deed, Or He His Manage By The Well-doing Steed.

To Pore Upon A Book, To Seek The Light Of Truth.

My Heart Laments That Virtue Cannot Live Out Of The Teeth Of Emulation.

Hear My Soul Speak. Of The Very Instant That I Saw You, Did My Heart Fly At Your Service

I Pray You, Do Not Fall In Love With Me, For I Am Falser Than Vows Made In Wine.