See What A Ready Tongue Suspicion Hath!

There's No More Faith In Thee Than In A Stewed Prune.

O Love, Be Moderate, Allay Thy Ecstasy, In Measure Rain Thy Joy, Scant This Excess!

You Know That Love Will Creep In Service Where It Cannot Go.

Give Me A Bowl Of Wine, In This I Bury All Unkindness.

I Know No Ways To Mince It In Love, But Directly To Say - I Love You