Come, Lady, Die To Live.

Words Are Grown So False, I Am Loath To Prove Reason With Them.

For This Relief, Much Thanks

From You Have I Been Absent In The Spring, When Proud Pied April, Dressed In All His Trim, Hath Put A Spirit Of Youth In Every Thing.

The Readiness Is All.

I Had Rather Be A Dog, And Bay The Moon, Than Such A Roman.