The Devil Can Cite Scripture For His

All That Glisters Is Not Gold; Often Have You Heard That Told: Many A Man His Life Hath Sold But My Outside To Behold: Gilded Tombs Do Worms Enfold.

So Will I Turn Her Virtue Into Pitch, And Out Of Her Own Goodness Make The Net That Shall Enmesh Them All.

Is This A Vision? Is This A Dream? Do I Sleep?

What? Do I Love Her, That I Desire To Hear Her Speak Again, And Feast Upon Her Eyes

The Gray-eyed Morn Smiles On The Frowning Night, Checkering The Eastern Clouds With Streaks Of Light.