Then Hate Me When Thou Wilt, If

Love Goes Toward Love As Schoolboys From Their Books, But Love From Love, Toward School With Heavy Looks.

Nay, Had I Pow'r, I Should Pour The Sweet Milk Of Concord Into Hell, Uproar The Universal Peace, Confound All Unity On Earth.

It Is Great To Do That Thing That Ends All Other Deeds, Which Shackles Accidents And Bolts Up Change.

Tell Me Where Is Fancy Bred, Or In The Heart, Or In The Head?

Thus Did I Keep My Person Fresh And New, My Presence, Like A Robe Pontifical, Ne'er Seen But Wondered At, And So My State, Seldom But Sumptuous, Showed Like A Feast.