Weep I Cannot; But My Heart Bleeds.

O Shame, Where Is Thy Blush?

O, Speak Again, Bright Angel! For Thou Art As Glorious To This Night, Being O'er My Head As Is A Winged Messenger Of Heaven

She Moves Me Not, Or Not Removes At Least Affection's Edge In Me.

My Pride Fell With My Fortunes.

Best Men Oft Are Moulded Out Of Faults.