Time Doth Run With Calm And Silent

I Am Envy, Begotten Of A Chimney-sweeper And An Oyster-wife. I Cannot Read, And Therefore Wish All Books Were Burnt; I Am Lean With Seeing Others Eat - O That There Would Come A Famine Through All The World, That All Might Die, And I Live Alone; Then Thou Should'st See How Fat I Would Be! But Must Thou Sit And I Stand? Come Down, With A Vengeance!

Time Doth Run With Calm And Silent Foot, Shortening My Days And Thread Of Vital Life.

Cut Is The Branch That Might Have Grown Full Straight, And Burned Is Apollo's Laurel Bough, That Sometime Grew Within This Learned Man. Faustus Is Gone.

O, Thou Art Fairer Than The Evening Air Clad In The Beauty Of A Thousand Stars.

Religion Hides Many Mischiefs From Suspicion.