Till Our King Henry Had Shook Hands

If I May Trust The Flattering Truth Of Sleep, My Dreams Presage Some Joyful News At Hand. My Bosom's Lord Sits Lightly In His Throne, And All This Day An Unaccustomed Spirit Lifts Me Above The Ground With Cheerful Thoughts.

By Heaven, I'll Make A Ghost Of Him That Lets Me.

Wait For The Season When To Cast Good Counsels Upon Subsiding Passion.

I Had Rather Be A Toad, And Live Upon The Vapor Of A Dungeon Than Keep A Corner In The Thing I Love For Others Uses.

Thou Art A Very Ragged Wart.