For Some Must Watch, While

Thou Sodden-witted Lord! Thou Hast No More Brain Than I Have In Mine Elbows.

I Have Heard Of Your Paintings Too, Well Enough; God Has Given You One Face, And You Make Yourselves Another.

Let Me Tell You, Cassius, You Yourself Are Much Condemned To Have An Itching Palm.

All Days Are Nights To See Till I See Thee, And Nights Bright Days When Dreams Do Show Thee Me.

O, Let My Books Be Then The Eloquence And Dumb Presagers Of My Speaking Breast, Who Plead For Love, And Look For Recompense, More Than That Tongue That More Hath More Expressed.