Tears Water Our Growth.

To Be In Love- Where Scorn Is Bought With Groans, Coy Looks With Heart-sore Sighs, One Fading Moment's Mirth With Twenty Watchful, Weary, Tedious Nights; If Haply Won, Perhaps A Hapless Gain; If Lost, Why Then A Grievous Labour Won; However, But A Folly Bought With Wit, Or Else A Wit By Folly Vanquished.

All Things That Are, Are With More Spirit Chased Than Enjoyed.

... And Death Unloads Thee.

Poor Wretches That Depend On Greatness' Favor, Dream As I Have Done; Wake, And Find Nothing.

If Thou Remeber'st Not The Slightest Folly That Ever Love Did Make Thee Run Into, Thou Hast Not Lov'd