Highly Fed And Lowly Taught.

My Love Admits No Qualifying Dross

This Bud Of Love, By Summer's Ripening Breath, May Prove A Beauteous Flower When Next We Meet

We Must Be Gentle Now We Are Gentlemen.

How Hard It Is For Women To Keep Counsel!

No Matter Where; Of Comfort No Man Speak: Let's Talk Of Graves, Of Worms, And Epitaphs; Make Dust Our Paper And With Rainy Eyes Write Sorrow On The Bosom Of The Earth