I Dote On His Very Absence.

Men Have Died From Time To Time, And Worms Have Eaten Them, But Not For Love.

His Worst Fault Is, He's Given To Prayer; He Is Something Peevish That Way.

The Smallest Worm Will Turn Being Trodden On, And Doves Will Peck In Safeguard Of Their Brood.

Verily, I Swear, It Is Better To Be Lowly Born, And Range With Humble Livers In Content, Than To Be Perked Up In A Glistering Grief, And Wear A Golden Sorrow.

Ill Met By Moonlight, Proud Titania