I Am Wrapped In Dismal Thinking.

Look, What Envious Streaks Do Lace The Severing Clouds In Yonder East! Night's Candles Are Burnt Out, And Jocund Day Stands Tip-toe On The Misty Mountain-tops.

Your "if" Is The Only Peacemaker; Much Virtue In "if.

Thus Weary Of The World, Away She Hies, And Yokes Her Silver Doves; By Whose Swift Aid Their Mistress Mounted Through The Empty Skies In Her Light Chariot Quickly Is Convey'd; Holding Their Course To Paphos, Where Their Queen Means To Immure Herself And Not Be Seen.

Fortune Is Painted Blind, With A Muffler Afore Her Eyes, To Signify To You That Fortune Is Blind.

For In My Youth I Never Did Apply Hot And Rebellious Liquors In My Blood.