The Poet's Eye, In A

By-and-by Is Easily Said.

Where Hateful Death Put On His Ugliest Mask.

When I Waked, I Cried To Dream Again

On Rumor's Tongue Continual Slanders Ride.

Leonato Well, Niece, I Hope To See You One Day Fitted With A Husband. Beatrice Not Till God Make Men Of Some Other Metal Than Earth. Would It Not Grieve A Woman To Be Overmastered With A Pierce Of Valiant Dust? To Make An Account Of Her Life To A Clod Of Wayward Marl? No, Uncle, I'll None: Adam's Sons Are My Brethren; And, Truly, I Hold It A Sin To Match In My Kindred.