France Is A Dog-hole, And It No

Let Us Be Diana's Foresters, Gentlemen Of The Shade, Minions Of The Moon

The Plants Look Up To Heaven, From Whence They Have Their Nourishment.

I Love Thee, And It Is My Love That Speaks

Who Alone Suffers Suffers Most I' Th' Mind, Leaving Free Things And Happy Shows Behind; But Then The Mind Much Sufferance Doth O'erskip When Grief Hath Mates, And Bearing Fellowship.

Sweets To The Sweet.