...an Old Man Is Twice A Child.

A Ministering Angel Shall My Sister Be.

Now Stand You On The Top Of Happy Hours, And Many Maiden Gardens Yet Unset, With Virtuous Wish Would Bear You Living Flowers, Much Liker Than Your Painted Counterfeit: So Should The Lines Of Life That Life Repair Which This, Time's Pencil, Or My Pupil Pen Neither In Inward Worth Nor Outward Fair Can Make You Live Your Self In Eyes Of Men.

The Moon's An Arrant Thief, And Her Pale Fire She Snatches From The Sun.

His Jest Will Savour But Of Shallow Wit, When Thousands Weep, More Than Did Laugh At It.

There's Nothing Situate Under Heaven's Eye But Hath His Bond In Earth, In Sea, In Sky. The Beasts, The Fishes, And The Winged Fowls Are Their Males' Subjects And At Their Controls. Man, More Divine, The Master Of All These, Lord Of The Wide World And Wild Wat'ry Seas, Indu'd With Intellectual Sense And Souls, Of More Pre-eminence Than Fish And Fowls, Are Masters To Their Females, And Their Lords; Then Let Your Will Attend On Their Accords.