Never Shame To Hear What You Have

Oh, That Way Madness Lies; Let Me Shun That.

Flower Of This Purple Dye, Hit With Cupid's Archery, Sink In Apple Of His Eye.

Eternity Was In Our Lips And Eyes, Bliss In Our Brows' Bent; None Our Parts So Poor But Was A Race Of Heaven.

Heat Not A Furnace For Your Foe So Hot That It Do Singe Yourself.

Faults That Are Rich Are Fair.