O All You Host Of Heaven! O

O Gentle Son, Upon The Heat And Flame Of Thy Distemper, Sprinkle Cool Patience.

Why, All Delights Are Vain; But That Most Vain, Which, With Pain Purchas'd, Doth Inherit Pain.

I Have Lived Long Enough. My Way Of Life Is To Fall Into The Sere, The Yellow Leaf, And That Which Should Accompany Old Age, As Honor, Love, Obedience, Troops Of Friends I Must Not Look To Have.

Lord, I Could Not Endure A Husband With A Beard On His Face! I Had Rather Lie In The Woolen.

Love Is The Greatest Of Dreams, Yet The Worst Of Nightmares.