And Makes Me Poor Indeed.

The Trust I Have Is In Mine Innocence, And Therefore Am I Bold And Resolute.

The Moon Of Rome, Chaste As The Icicle That's Curded By The Frost From Purest Snow.

My Love Is Thine To Teach; Teach It But How, And Thou Shalt See How Apt It Is To Learn. Any Hard Lesson That May Do Thee Good.

I Am Not Prone To Weeping As Our Sex Commonly Are; The Want Of Which Vain Dew Perchance Shall Dry Your Pities; But I Have That Honorable Grief Lodged Here Which Burns Worse Than Tears Drown.

I Have Bought Golden Opinions From All Sorts Of People.