Hang There Like Fruit, My Soul, Till

Though It Make The Unskillful Laugh, Cannot But Make The Judicious Grieve.

Oh, She Doth Teach The Torches To Burn Bright!

Shall I Compare Thee To A Summer Day? Thou Art More Lovely And More Temperate... When In Eternal Lines To Time Thou Growst So Long As Men Can Breathe Or Eyes Can See, So Long Lives This, And This Gives Life To Thee.

Like A Dull Actor Now, I Have Forgot My Part, And I Am Out, Even To A Full Disgrace.

How Far That Little Candle Throws Its Beams! So Shines A Good Deed In A Naughty World.