He Hath Eaten Me Out Of House

I Am Now Of All Humors That Have Showed Themselves Humors Since The Old Days Of Goodman Adam To The Pupil Age Of This Present Twelve O'clock At Midnight.

My Crown Is Called Content, A Crown That Seldom Kings Enjoy.

Grim-visaged War Hath Smoothed His Wrinkled Front; And Now, Instead Of Mounting Barbed Steeds To Fright The Souls Of Fearful Adversaries, He Capers Nimbly In A Lady's Chamber To The Lascivious Pleasing Of A Lute.

And Yet, By Heaven, I Think My Love As Rare As Any She Belied With False Compare.

Love's Fire Heats Water, Water Cools Not Love.