Pray You Now, Forget And Forgive.

I Was Adored Once Too.

I Cannot Do It Without Comp[u]ters.

Thine Eyes I Love, And They As Pitying Me, Knowing Thy Heart Torment Me With Disdain, Have Put On Black, And Loving Mourners Be, Looking With Pretty Ruth Upon My Pain.

Shall I Not Take Mine Ease In Mine Inn But I Shall Have My Pocket Picked?

Tired With All These For Restful Death I Cry, As To Behold Desert A Beggar Born, And Needy Nothing Trimmed In Jollity, And Purest Faith Unhappily Forsworn.