O, What A Goodly Outside Falsehood Hath!

There Is No Love-broker In The World Can More Prevail In Man's Commendation With Woman Than Report Of Valor.

I Will Instruct My Sorrows To Be Proud; For Grief Is Proud, And Makes His Owner Stoop.

He's All My Exercise, My Mirth, My Matter.

Parting Is Such Sweet Sorrow

Weep Not, Sweet Queen, For Trickling Tears Are Vain.