He Wears The Rose Of Youth Upon

The Due Of Honor In No Point Omit.

The Third Day Comes A Frost, A Killing Frost.

Such Is My Love, To Thee I So Belong, That For Thy Right Myself Will Bear All Wrong.

I And My Bosom Must Debate Awhile, And Then I Would No Other Company.

Was Ever Woman In This Humour Wooed? Was Ever Woman In This Humour Won?