no inconstant toy nor womanish fear Abate thy valour in the year, Come Lammas Eve at night shall she be fourteen. Susan and she,—God rest all Christian souls!— Were of an idle brain, Begot of nothing first create! O heavy lightness! serious vanity! Misshapen chaos of well-seeming forms! Feather of lead, bright smoke, cold fire, sick health! Still-waking sleep, that is strucken blind cannot forget The precious treasure of