Hang There Like Fruit, My Soul, Till

To Say The Truth, So Judas Kissed His Master And Cried, 'all Hail!' When As He Meant All Harm.

Dreams, Indeed, Are Ambition; For The Very Substance Of The Ambitious Is Merely The Shadow Of A Dream. And I Hold Ambition Of So Airy And Light A Quality That It Is But A Shadow's Shadow.

I Am Not Prone To Weeping As Our Sex Commonly Are; The Want Of Which Vain Dew Perchance Shall Dry Your Pities; But I Have That Honorable Grief Lodged Here Which Burns Worse Than Tears Drown.

The Poor World Is Almost Six Thousand Years Old, And In All This Time There Was Not Any Man Died In His Own Person, Videlicet, In A Love-cause.

Love's Heralds Should Be Thoughts, Which Ten Times Faster Glide Than The Sun's Beams Driving Back Shadows Over Low'ring Hills. Therefore Do Nimble-pinioned Doves Draw Love, And Therefore Hath The Wind-swift Cupid Wings.