How Well He's Read, To Reason Against

The Fire Seven Times Tried This; Seven Times Tried That Judgement Is That Did Never Choose Amiss Some There Be That Shadows Kiss; Such Have But A Shadows Bliss, There Be Fool Alive, I Wis Silverd O'er, And So Was This Take What Wife You Will To Bed I Will Ever Be Your Head. So Be Gone; You Are Sped.

But Thou Art Fair, And At Thy Birth, Dear Boy, Nature And Fortune Join'd To Make Thee Great: Of Nature's Gifts Thou Mayst With Lilies Boast, And With The Half-blown Rose; But Fortune, O!

The Man That Hath No Music In Himself, Nor Is Not Moved With Concord Of Sweet Sounds, Is Fit For Treasons, Stratagems And Spoils.

I Never See Thy Face But I Think Upon Hell-fire.

Love, Whose Month Is Ever May, Spied A Blossom Passing Fair, Playing In The Wanton Air: Through The Velvet Leaves The Wind, All Unseen Can Passage Find; That The Lover, Sick To Death, Wish'd Himself The Heaven's Breath.