It Is Held That Valor Is The

Preferment Goes By Letter And Affection, And Not By Old Gradation, Where Each Second Stood Heir To Th's First.

Love Asks Me No Questions, And Gives Me Endless Support.

As Love Is Full Of Unbefitting Strains, All Wanton As A Child, Skipping And Vain, Form'd By The Eye And Therefore, Like The Eye, Full Of Strange Shapes, Of Habits And Of Forms, Varying In Subjects As The Eye Doth Roll To Every Varied Object In His Glance

Where The Greater Malady Is Fixed, The Lesser Is Scarce Felt.

Love's Not Time's Fool, Though Rosy Lips And Cheeks Within His Bending Sickle's Compass Come.