If People Knew How Much I Hated

The Gods Are Just, And Of Our Pleasant Vices Make Instruments To Plague Us.

Costly Thy Habit [dress] As Thy Purse Can Buy; But Not Expressed In Fancy - Rich, Not Gaudy. For The Apparel Oft Proclaims The Man.

Shine Out Fair Sun, Till I Have Bought A Glass, That I May See My Shadow As I Pass.

Alas, That Love, Whose View Is Muffled Still, Should Without Eyes See Pathways To His Will!

As True As Steel, As Plantage To The Moon, As Sun To Day, At Turtle To Her Mate, As Iron To Adamant, As Earth To Centre.