This Fellow Pecks Up Wit,

As You From Crimes Would Pardon'd Be, Let Your Indulgence Set Me Free.

Farewell, A Long Farewell To All My Greatness! This Is The State Of Man: Today He Puts Forth The Tender Leaves Of Hope, Tomorrow Blossoms, And Bears His Blushing Honours Thick Upon Him: The Third Day Comes A Frost, A Killing Frost, And - When He Thinks, Good Easy Man, Full Surely His Greatness Is A-ripening - Nips His Root, And Then He Falls, As I Do.

My Heart Is Turned To Stone; I Strike It, And It Hurts My Hand.

Love Goes Toward Love.

Oh, I Have Passed A Miserable Night, So Full Of Ugly Sights, Of Ghastly Dreams!