But She Makes Hungry Where She Most

What's Gone, And What's Past Help, Should Be Past Grief.

I Heard A Bird So Sing, Whose Music, To My Thinking, Pleased The King.

To Weep Is To Make Less The Depth Of Grief.

Loathsome Canker Lives In Sweetest Bud.

Friends Now Fast Sworn, Whose Double Bosoms Seems To Wear One Heart, Whose Hours, Whose Bed, Whose Meal And Exercise Are Still Together, Who Twin, As 'twere, In Love, Unseparable, Shall Within This Hour, On A Dissension Of A Doit, Break Out To Bitterest Enmity; So Fellest Foes, Whose Passions And Whose Plots Have Broke Their Sleep To Take The One The Other, By Some Chance, Some Trick Not Worth An Egg, Shall Grow Dear Friends And Interjoin Their Issues.