Love Surfeits Not, Lust Like A Glutton

She Told Her, While She Kept It, 'twould Make Her Amiable And Subdue My Father Entirely To Her Love, But If She Lost It Or Made A Gift Of It, My Father's Eye Should Hold Her Loathed And His Spirits Should Hunt After New Fancies.

Methinks Sometimes I Have No More Wit Than A Christian Or An Ordinary Man Has; But I Am A Great Eater Of Beef, And I Believe That Does Harm To My Wit.

True, I Talk Of Dreams, Which Are The Children Of An Idle Brain, Begot Of Nothing But Vain Fantasy, Which Is As Thin Of Substance As The Air, And More Inconstant Than The Wind, Who Woos Even Now The Frozen Bosom Of The North, And, Being Anger'd, Puffs Away From Thence, Turning His Side To The Dew-dropping South.

Put Forth Thy Hand, Reach At The Glorious Gold.

And All My Mother Came Into Mine Eyes And Gave Me Up To Tears.