I Scorn You, Scurvy Companion.

I Heard A Bird So Sing, Whose Music, To My Thinking, Pleased The King.

Experience Teacheth That Resolution Is A Sole Help In Need.

Since Mine Own Doors Refuse To Entertain Me, I'll Knock Elsewhere, To See If They'll Disdain Me

How Many A Holy And Obsequious Tear Hath Dear Religious Love Stolen From Mine Eye, As Interest Of The Dead!

Bad Is The Trade That Must Play Fool To Sorrow, Ang'ring Itself And Others.