Well, Every One Can Master A Grief

Have Not Saints Lips, And Holy Palmers Too Ay, Pilgrim, Lips That They Must Use In Prayer.

Sit By My Side, And Let The World Slip: We Shall Ne'er Be Younger.

Our Doubts Are Traitors And Make Us Lose The Good We Oft Might Win By Fearing To Attempt.

How Slow This Old Moon Wanes! She Lingers My Desires, Like To A Stepdame, Or A Dowager, Long Withering Out A Young Man's Revenue.

Thieves For Their Robbery Have Authority When Judges Steal Themselves.