Death, That Hath Suck'd The Honey Of

Keep Time! How Sour Sweet Music Is When Time Is Broke And No Proportion Kept! So Is It In The Music Of Men's Lives. I Wasted Time And Now Doth Time Waste Me.

Thou Art An Elm, My Husband, I A Vine, Whose Weakness, Married To Thy Stronger State, Makes Me With Thy Strength To Communicate.

His Worst Fault Is, He's Given To Prayer; He Is Something Peevish That Way.

Till Our King Henry Had Shook Hands With Death.

Then Love-devouring Death Do What He Dare.