Young Adam Cupid, He That Shot So

I Swear Again, I Would Not Be A Queen For All The World.

What Early Tongue So Sweet Saluteth Me? Young Son, It Argues A Distemper'd Head So Soon To Bid Good Morrow To Thy Bed: Care Keeps His Watch In Every Old Man's Eye, And Where Care Lodges, Sleep Will Never Lie; But Where Unbruised Youth With Unstuff'd Brain Doth Couch His Limbs, There Golden Sleep Doth Reign.

I Would Challenge You To A Battle Of Wits, But I See You Are Unarmed!

Two Lovely Berries Moulded On One Stem; So, With Two Seeming Bodies, But One Heart.

Un-thread The Rude Eye Of Rebellion, And Welcome Home Again Discarded Faith.