Are There No Stones In Heaven But

Death, That Hath Suck'd The Honey Of Thy Breath Hath Had No Power Yet Upon Thy Beauty.

All's Well That Ends Well; Still The Fine's The Crown. Whate'er The Course, The End Is The Renown.

As A Decrepit Father Takes Delight To See His Active Child Do Deeds Of Youth, So I, Made Lame By Fortune's Dearest Spite, Take All My Comfort Of Thy Worth And Truth.

As There Comes Light From Heaven And Words From Breath, As There Is Sense In Truth And Truth In Virtue

Oh, I Have Passed A Miserable Night, So Full Of Ugly Sights, Of Ghastly Dreams!