I Envy Thee Not Thy Faith, Which

Good Even, Good Fair Moon, Good Even To Thee. I Prithee, Dear Moon, Now Show To Me The Form And The Features, The Speech And Degree, Of The Man That True Lover Of Mine Shall Be.

A Glass Of Good Wine Is A Gracious Creature, And Reconciles Poor Mortality To Itself And That Is What Few Things Can Do.

For Love Is Heaven And Heaven Is Love.

Do Not Christians And Heathens, And Jews And Gentiles, And Poets And Philosophers, Unite In Allowing The Starry Influences?

It Is The Privilege Of Tale-tellers To Open Their Story In An Inn, The Free Rendezvous Of All Travellers, And Where The Humour Of Each Displays Itself, Without Ceremony Or Restraint.