Men's Evil Manners Live In

Look, The World's Comforter, With Weary Gait, His Day's Hot Task Hath Ended In The West: The Owl, Night's Herald, Shrieks-'tis Very Late; The Sheep Are Gone To Fold, Birds To Their Nest; And Coal-black Clouds, That Shadow Heaven's Light, Do Summon Us To Part, And Bid Good Night.

Love Thyself Last, Cherish Those Hearts That Hate Thee; Corruption Wins Not More Than Honesty.

He That Loves To Be Flattered Is Worthy O' The Flatterer.

I Must To The Barber's, Monsieur, For Methinks I Am Marvellous Hairy About The Face.

Shall I Compare Thee To A Summer Day? Thou Art More Lovely And More Temperate... When In Eternal Lines To Time Thou Growst So Long As Men Can Breathe Or Eyes Can See, So Long Lives This, And This Gives Life To Thee.