If You Can Look Into

What, Keep A Week Away? Seven Days And Nights, Eightscore-eight Hours, And Lovers' Absent Hours More Tedious Than The Dial Eightscore Times! O Weary Reckoning!

For Now I Stand As One Upon A Rock Environed With A Wilderness Of Sea, Who Marks The Waxing Tide Grow Wave By Wave, Expecting Ever When Some Envious Surge Will In His Brinish Bowels Swallow Him.

Cease Thy Counsel, For Thy Words Fall Into My Ears As Priceless As Water Into A Seive.

The Sweetest Honey Is Loathsome In His Own Deliciousness, And In The Taste Confounds The Appetite: Therefore Love Moderately— Long Love Doth So.

Full Of Wise Saws And Modern Instances.