Such As We Are Made Of, Such

You Take My House When You Do Take The Prop That Doth Sustain My House; You Take My Life When You Do Take The Means Whereby I Live.

I Was Adored Once Too.

I Humbly Do Beseech Of Your Pardon, For Too Much Loving You

How Wayward Is This Foolish Love That, Like A Testy Babe, Will Scratch The Nurse And Presently, All Humble, Kiss The Rod.

The Sense Of Death Is Most In Apprehension.