Thou Lump Of Foul Deformity!

Suffer Love; A Good Epithet! I Do Suffer Love, Indeed, For I Love Thee Against My Will.

I'll Say She Looks As Clear As Morning Roses Newly Washed With Dew.

There's Hope A Great Man's Memory May Outlive His Life Half A Year.

Having My Freedom, Boast Of Nothing Else.

The Tongues Of Dying Men Enforce Attention Like Deep Harmony.