Eternity Was In Our Lips

A Time, Methinks, Too Short To Make A World-without-end Bargain In.

If By Chance I Talk A Little Wild, Forgive Me; I Had It From My Father.

He Capers, He Dances, He Has Eyes Of Youth, He Writes Verses, He Speaks Holiday, He Smells April And May.

I Have Very Poor And Unhappy Brains For Drinking.

Now All The Youth Of England Are On Fire, And Silken Dalliance In The Wardrobe Lies; Now Thrive The Armorers, And Honor's Thought Reigns Solely In The Breast Of Every Man.