Ay Me! Sad Hours Seem Long.

When To The Sessions Of Sweet Silent Thought I Summon Up Remembrance Of Things Past, I Sigh The Lack Of Many A Thing I Sought.

Excellent Wretch! Perdition Catch My Soul But I Do Love Thee! And When I Love Thee Not, Chaos Is Come Again.

Women Are As Roses, Whose Fair Flower, Being Once Displayed, Doth Fall That Very Hour.

Nothing Can Seem Foul To Those Who Win.

My Love Is As A Fever, Longing Still.