Virtuous And Fair, Royal And

All Things Are Ready, If Our Mind Be So.

I Am Giddy, Expectation Whirls Me Round. The Imaginary Relish Is So Sweet That It Enchants My Sense.

The Apparel Oft Proclaims The Man.

Love's Not Time's Fool, Though Rosy Lips And Cheeks Within His Bending Sickle's Compass Come.

Why, All Delights Are Vain; But That Most Vain, Which, With Pain Purchas'd, Doth Inherit Pain.