Bad's The Best Of Us.

Who Doubting Tyranny, And Fainting Under Fortune's False Lottery, Desperately Run To Death, For Dread Of Death; That Soul's Most Stout, That, Bearing All Mischance, Dares Last It Out.

There's Nothing That Allays An Angry Mind So Soon As A Sweet Beauty.

My Virginity, That From My Childhood Kept Me Company, Is Heavier Than I Can Endure To Bear. Forgive Me, Cupid, For Thou Art God, And I A Wretched Creature: I Have Sinn'd; But Be Thou Merciful, And Grant That Yet I May Enjoy What Thou Wilt Have Me Love!

Daisies Smell-less, Yet Most Quaint, And Sweet Thyme True, Primrose, First Born Child Of Ver, Merry Spring-time's Harbinger.

Faith Without Works Is Like A Bird Without Wings; Though She May Hop With Her Companions On Earth, Yet She Will Never Fly With Them To Heaven.