Good Morrow, Fair Ones; Pray You, If

Though Authority Be A Stubborn Bear, Yet He Is Oft Let By The Nose With Gold.

Beware Of Entrance To A Quarrel.

So Far Be Distant; And Good Night, Sweet Friend: Thy Love Ne'er Alter, Till They Sweet Life End

To You Your Father Should Be As A God; One That Composed Your Beauties, Yea, And One To Whom You Are But As A Form In Wax, By Him Imprinted, And Within His Power To Leave The Figure Or Disfigure It.

Thus Did I Keep My Person Fresh And New, My Presence, Like A Robe Pontifical, Ne'er Seen But Wondered At, And So My State, Seldom But Sumptuous, Showed Like A Feast.