To Be Now A Sensible

The Barge She Sat In, Like A Burnish'd Throne, Burnt On The Water.

Women Are Angels, Wooing: Things Won Are Done; Joy's Soul Lies In The Doing: That She Beloved Knows Naught, That Knows Not This-- Men Prize The Thing Ungained More Than It Is.

Cupid Is A Knavish Lad, Thus To Make Poor Females Mad.

Life Every Man Holds Dear; But The Dear Man Holds Honor Far More Precious Dear Than Life.

Alas, How Love Can Trifle With Itself!