They Are But Beggars That Can Count

For Night's Swift Dragons Cut The Clouds Full Fast, And Yonder Shines Aurora's Harbinger; At Whose Approach Ghosts Wandring Here And There Troop Home To Church-yards.... For Fear Lest Day Should Look Their Shames Upon, They Willfully Exile Themselves From Light, And Must For Aye Consort With Black Brow'd Night.

Preposterous Ass, That Never Read So Far To Know The Cause Why Music Was Ordain'd! Was It Not To Refresh The Mind Of Man, After His Studies Or His Usual Pain?

Flower Of This Purple Dye, Hit With Cupid's Archery, Sink In Apple Of His Eye.

If They Love They Know Not Why, They Hate Upon No Better Ground, They Hate Upon No Better A Ground

What Is Done Cannot Be Now Amended.