Winding Up Days With Toil And Nights

In The Night, Imagining Some Fear, How Easy Is A Bush Supposed A Bear!

No Man Means Evil But The Devil, And We Shall Know Him By His Horns.

A Peace Is Of The Nature Of A Conquest; For Then Both Parties Nobly Are Subdued, And Neither Party Loser.

His Words Are Bonds, His Oaths Are Oracles; His Love Sincere, His Thoughts Immaculate; His Tears Pure Messengers Sent From His Heart; His Heart As Far From Fraud, As Heaven From Earth

Constant You Are, But Yet A Woman; And For Secrecy, No Lady Closer; For I Well Believe Thou Wilt Not Utter What Thou Dost Not Know.