True Gladness Doth Not Always Speak; Joy,

Doing, A Filthy Pleasure Is, And Short; And Done, We Straight Repent Us Of The Sport: Let Us Not Rush Blindly On Unto It, Like Lustful Beasts, That Only Know To Do It: For Lust Will Languish, And That Heat Decay, But Thus, Thus, Keeping Endless Holy-.

Sweet Swan Of Avon! What A Sight It Were To See Thee In Our Water Yet Appear.

The World Knows Only Two, That's Rome And I.

Queen And Huntress, Chaste And Fair Now The Sun Is Laid To Sleep, Seated In Thy Silver Chair, State In Wonted Manner Keep: Hesperus Entreats Thy Light Goddess, Excellently Bright.

A Prince Without Letters Is A Pilot Without Eyes. All His Government Is Groping.