Parting Is Such Sweet Sorrow

Live How We Can, Yet Die We Must.

Old Time The Clock-setter.

This Thou Perceivest, Which Makes Thy Love More Strong, To Love That Well Which Thou Must Leave Ere Long

Sweetest Nut Hath Sourest Rind.

My Thought, Whose Murder Yet Is But Fantastical, Shakes So My Single State Of Man That Function Is Smothered In Surmise, And Nothing Is But What Is Not.