I'm Armed With More Than Complete Steel,

Hell Strives With Grace For Conquest In My Breast. What Shall I Do To Shun The Snares Of Death?

Virginity, Albeit Some Highly Prize It, Compared With Marriage, Had You Tried Them Both, Differs As Much As Wine And Water Doth.

Unhappy Spirits That Fell With Lucifer, / Conspired Against Our God With Lucifer, / And Are For Ever Damned With Lucifer.

Cut Is The Branch That Might Have Grown Full Straight, And Burned Is Apollo's Laurel Bough, That Sometime Grew Within This Learned Man. Faustus Is Gone.

Love Is Not Ful Of Pittie (as Men Say) But Deaffe And Cruell, Where He Meanes To Pray.