So Shows A Snowy Dove Trooping With

If You Prick Us Do We Not Bleed? If You Tickle Us Do We Not Laugh? If You Poison Us Do We Not Die? And If You Wrong Us Shall We Not Revenge?

The Prize Of All Too Precious You.

What Thing, In Honor, Had My Father Lost, That Need To Be Revived And Breathed In Me?

The Apprehension Of The Good Gives But The Greater Feeling To The Worse.

There Was Never Yet Fair Woman But She Made Mouths In A Glass.