By How Much Unexpected, By So Much

I Humbly Do Beseech Of Your Pardon, For Too Much Loving You

Though It Make The Unskillful Laugh, Cannot But Make The Judicious Grieve.

I That Please Some, Try All, Both Joy And Terror Of Good And Bad, That Makes And Unfolds Error.

When Griping Grief The Heart Doth Wound, And Doleful Dumps The Mind Opresses, Then Music, With Her Silver Sound, With Speedy Help Doth Lend Redress.

When You Do Dance, I Wish You A Wave O' The Sea, That You Might Ever Do Nothing But That.