Who Can Control His Fate?

Fondling,' She Saith, 'since I Have Hemm'd Thee Here Within The Circuit Of This Ivory Pale, I'll Be A Park, And Thou Shalt Be My Deer; Feed Where Thou Wilt, On Mountain Or In Dale: Graze On My Lips, And If Those Hills Be Dry, Stray Lower, Where The Pleasant Fountains Lie.

If Thou Engrossest All The Griefs Are Thine, Thou Robb'st Me Of A Moiety.

And Since You Know You Cannot See Yourself, So Well As By Reflection, I, Your Glass, Will Modestly Discover To Yourself, That Of Yourself Which You Yet Know Not Of.

He Is Well Paid That Is Well Satisfied.

I Think The King Is But A Man As I Am: The Violet Smells To Him As It Doth To Me.