I Was Not Born Under A Rhyming

Like One Who Having Into Truth, By Telling Of It, Made Such A Sinner Of His Memory, To Credit His Own Lie.

Wisdom Cries Out In The Streets, And No Man Regards It.

Love That We Cannot Have Is The One That Lasts The Longest,hurts The Deepest,but Feels The Strongest

Foul Whisperings Are Abroad

I Once Did Hold It, As Our Statists Do, A Baseness To Write Fair, And Labour'd Much How To Forget That Learning; But, Sir, Now It Did Me Yeoman's Service.