Oh, That Way Madness Lies;

For Here, I Hope, Begins Our Lasting Joy.

Away, You Trifler! Love! I Love Thee Not, I Care Not For Thee, Kate: This Is No World To Play With Mammets And To Tilt With Lips: We Must Have Bloody Noses And Cracked Crowns.

When I Bestride Him, I Soar, I Am A Hawk: He Trots The Air; The Earth Sings When He Touches It; The Basest Horn Of His Hoof Is More Musical Than The Pipe Of Hermes.

And She's Fair I Love.

Study Is Like The Heaven's Glorious Sun, That Will Not Be Deep-searched With Saucy Looks: Small Have Continual Plodders Ever Won, Save Base Authority From Others' Books.