Do proper homage to thine idol's eyes; But no too humbly, or she will despise Thee and thy suit, though told in moving tropes: Disguise even tenderness if thou art wise.
That low vice, curiosity!
Absence - that common cure of love.
Then, fare thee well, deceitful Maid!
Fools are my theme, let satire be my song.
Our life is two fold Sleep hath its own world, A boundary between the things misnamed Death and existence Sleep hath its own world, And a wide realm of wild reality.