Good Hay, Sweet Hay, Hath No Fellow.

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

By Heaven, I Love Thee Better Than Myself

The Sweetest Honey Is Loathsome In His Own Deliciousness.

This Liberty Is All That I Request.

Is This The Generation Of Love? Hot Blood, Hot Thoughts And Hot Deeds? Why, They Are Vipers. Is Love A Generation Of Vipers?