A Heavy Heart Bears Not A Nimble

Love Is Your Master, For He Masters You; And He That Is So Yoked By A Fool Methinks Should Not Be Chronicled For Wise.

The Will Of Man Is By His Reason Sway'd.

Sick In The World's Regard, Wretched And Low.

She Marking Them Begins A Wailing Note And Sings Extemporally A Woeful Ditty How Love Makes Young Men Thrall And Old Men Dote How Love Is Wise In Folly, Foolish-witty Her Heavy Anthem Still Concludes In Woe, And Still The Choir Of Echoes Answer So.

Beauty's A Doubtful Good, A Glass, A Flower, Lost, Faded, Broken, Dead Within An Hour; And Beauty, Blemish'd Once, For Ever's Lost, In Spite Of Physic, Painting, Pain, And Cost.