Give Thy Thoughts No Tongue, Nor Any

A Little Fire Is Quickly Trodden Out, Which, Being Suffer'd, Rivers Cannot Quench.

Love Is Not Love That Alters When It Alteration Finds.

He That Dies Pays All Debts.

It Were A Grief So Brief To Part With Thee. Farewell.

What's To Come Is Still Unsure: In Delay There Lies No Plenty; Then Come Kiss Me, Sweet And Twenty, Youth's A Stuff Will Not Endure.