Time And The Hour Run Through The

Tis Now The Very Witching Time Of Night, When Churchyards Yawn And Hell Itself Breathes Out Contagion To This World.

I Am Not Of That Feather, To Shake Off My Friend When He Must Need Me

Oh! That You Could Turn Your Eyes Towards The Napes Of Your Necks, And Make But An Interior Survey Of Your Good Selves.

That Which Hath Made Them Drunk Hath Made Me Bold; What Hath Quenched Them Hath Given Me Fire.

There Is No Love-broker In The World Can More Prevail In Man's Commendation With Woman Than Report Of Valor.