Then Love-devouring Death Do What He Dare.

Good Old Grandsire ... We Shall Be Joyful Of Thy Company.

I, Measuring His Affections By My Own, Which Then Most Sought Where Most Might Not Be Found, Being One Too Many By My Weary Self, Pursued My Humor Not Pursuing His, And Gladly Shunned Who Gladly Fled From Me.

In Scorn Of Nature, Art Gave Lifeless Life.

He That Is Thy Friend Indeed, He Will Help You In Your Need.

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