Pardon, Gentles All, The Flat Unraised Spirits

Captain Of Our Fairy Band, Helena Is Here At Hand, And The Youth, Mistook By Me, Pleading For A Lover's Fee. Shall We Their Fond Pageant See? Lord, What Fools These Mortals Be!

One Sees More Devils Than Vast Hell Can Hold

The Poorest Service Is Repaid With Thanks.

I Will Despair, And Be At Enmity With Cozening Hope.

Love, Whose Month Is Ever May, Spied A Blossom Passing Fair, Playing In The Wanton Air: Through The Velvet Leaves The Wind, All Unseen Can Passage Find; That The Lover, Sick To Death, Wish'd Himself The Heaven's Breath.