He Does Me Double Wrong That Wounds

I Praise God For You, Sir: Your Reasons At Dinner Have Been Sharp And Sententious; Pleasant Without Scurrility, Witty Without Affectation, Audacious Without Impudency, Learned Without Opinion, And Strange With-out Heresy.

This Wimpled, Whining, Purblind, Wayward Boy, This Senior Junior, Giant Dwarf...cupid.

Time Shall Unfold What Plaited Cunning Hides: Who Cover Faults, At Last Shame Them Derides.

I Have Pursued Her, As Love Hath Pursued Me

It Is Not Night When I Do See Your Face.