Henceforth, I'll Bear Affliction Till It Do

Your Praises Will Become Your Wages.

Come Away, Come Away, Death, And In Sad Cypres Let Me Be Laid; Fly Away, Fly Away, Breath; I Am Slain By A Fair Cruel Maid.

O Horror! Horror! Horror! Tongue Nor Heart Cannot Conceive Nor Name Thee!

The Violence Of Either Grief Or Joy, Their Own Enactures With Themselves Destroy.

A Young Man Married Is A Man That's Marred.