The Weary Sun Hath Made A Golden

The One I Love Is The Son Of The One I Hate! -juliet P. 75

And Some That Smile Have In Their Hearts, I Fear, Millions Of Mischiefs.

Let Him Smell His Way To Dover!

And When I Am Forgotten, As I Shall Be, And Asleep In Dull Cold Marble, Where No Mention Of Me Must Be Heard Of, Say, I Taught Thee.

Now, My Masters, Happy Man Be His Dole, Say I; Every Man To His Business.