The Web Of Our Life Is Of

She Says I Am Not Fair, That I Lack Manners; She Calls Me Proud, And That She Could Not Love Me, Were Man As Rare As Phoenix.

Teach Not Thy Lip Such Scorn, For It Was Made For Kissing, Lady, Not For Such Contempt.

Who Is Silvia What Is She, That All Our Swains Commend Her Holy, Fair, And Wise Is She.

A Dream Itself Is But A Shadow.

Keep Thy Friend Under Thy Own Life's Key.