Sweets Grown Common Lose Their Dear Delight.

O, My Lord, You Said That Idle Weeds Are Fast In Growth: The Prince My Brother Hath Outgrown Me Far.

Is This Government Of Britain's Isle, And This The Royalty Of Albion's King?

A Very Honest Woman But Something Given To Lie

Besides, They Are Our Outward Consciences, And Preachers To Us All, Admonishing That We Should Drew Us Fairly For Our End.

Give Me That Man That Is Not Passion's Slave, And I Will Wear Him In My Heart's Core, In My Heart Of Heart, As I Do Thee.