Hang There Like Fruit, My Soul, Till

We Wound Our Modesty And Make Foul The Clearness Of Our Deservings, When Of Ourselves We Publish Them.

Let None Presume To Wear An Undeserved Dignity.

A Substitute Shines Brightly As A King Until A King Be By, And Then His State Empties Itself, As Dot An Inland Brook Into The Main Of Waters.

Ay, That Incestuous, That Adulterate Beast, With Witchcraft Of His Wit, With Traitorous Gifts- O Wicked Wit And Gifts, That Have The Power So To Seduce!

My Glass Shall Not Persuade Me I Am Old, So Long As Youth And Thou Are Of One Date; But When In Thee Time's Furrows I Behold, Then Look I Death My Days Should Expiate.