How Now, Wit! Whither Wander You?

When The Sun Shines Let Foolish Gnats Make Sport, But Creep In Crannies When He Hides His Beams.

Then Happy I That Love And Am Beloved, Where I May Not Remove Nor Be Removed.

Oh God! That One Might Read The Book Of Fate, And See The Revolution Of The Times Make Mountains Level, And The Continent, Weary Of Solid Firmness, Melt Itself Into The Sea.

Lovers Ever Run Before The Clock

That If You Be Honest And Fair, Your Honesty Should Admit No Discourse To Your Beauty.