Love Is A Wonderful, Terrible Thing

For She Had Eyes And Chose Me.

This Music Crept By Me Upon The Waters, Allaying Both Their Fury And My Passion With Its Sweet Air: Thence I Have Follow’d It.

The Latter End Of A Fray, And The Beginning Of A Feast, Fits A Dull Fighter, And A Keen Guest.

Take No Repulse, Whatever She Doth Say; For 'get You Gone,' She Doth Not Mean 'away.' Flatter And Praise, Commend, Extol Their Graces; Though Ne'er So Black, Say They Have Angels' Faces

Set Honour In One Eye And Death I' The Other, And I Will Look On Both Indifferently.