Here I And Sorrows Sit; Here Is

The Blood Of Youth Burns Not With Such Excess As Gravity's Revolt To Wantonness.

Give Obedience Where 'tis Truly Owed.

Lovers And Madmen Have Such Seething Brains Such Shaping Fantasies, That Apprehend More Than Cool Reason Ever Comprehends.

Tear-falling Pity Dwells Not In This Eye.

O, A Kiss Long As My Exile, Sweet As My Revenge! Now, By The Jealous Queen Of Heaven, That Kiss I Carried From Thee, Dear, And My True Lip Hath Virgined It E'er Since.