The Cheek Is Apter Than The Tongue

Captain Of Our Fairy Band, Helena Is Here At Hand, And The Youth, Mistook By Me, Pleading For A Lover's Fee. Shall We Their Fond Pageant See? Lord, What Fools These Mortals Be!

Nothing Is So Common As The Wish To Be Remarkable.(attributed To)

Now The Good Gods Forbid That Our Renowned Rome, Whose Gratitude Towards Her Deserved Children Is Enrolled In Jove's Own Book, Like An Unnatural Dam Should Now Eat Up Her Own!

For Precious Friends Hid In Death's Dateless Night.

How Ill White Hairs Become A Fool And Jester!