But see! theVirgin blessed Hath laid her Babe to rest. Time is our tedious song should here have ending.

A good book is the precious lifeblood of a master spirit.

A short retirement urges a sweet return.

Or bid the soul of Orpheus sing Such notes as, warbled to the string, Drew iron tears down Pluto's cheek.

The love-lorn nightingale nightly to thee her sad song mourneth well.

Part of my soul I seek thee, and claim thee my other half

Ah, why should all mankind For one man's fault, be condemned, If guiltless?