Till Our King Henry Had

When Devils Will The Blackest Sins Put On They Do Suggest At First With Heavenly Shows

Thou Art The Best O' The Cut-throats

I Had Rather Chop This Hand Off At A Blow, And With The Other Fling It At Thy Face.

Love Runs Away From Those Chasing Her, And Those Who Run Away, She Throws Herself On His Neck.

The Poet's Eye, In A Fine Frenzy Rolling, Doth Glance From Heaven To Earth, From Earth To Heaven; And As Imagination Bodies Forth The Forms Of Things Unknown, The Poet's Pen Turns Them To Shape, And Gives To Airy Nothing A Local Habitation And A Name; Such Tricks Hath Strong Imagination.