My Only Love Sprung From

A Golden Mind Stoops Not To Shows Of Dross.

Oh! That You Could Turn Your Eyes Towards The Napes Of Your Necks, And Make But An Interior Survey Of Your Good Selves.

This Goodly Frame, The Earth, Seems To Me A Sterile Promontory.

There Is A Tide In The Affairs Of Men

O, Teach Me How You Look, And With What Art You Sway The Motion Of Demetrius' Heart."-helena