I Am Falser Than Vows Made In

O, Thou Hast Damnable Iteration; And Art, Indeed, Able To Corrupt A Saint.

I Heard A Bird So Sing, Whose Music, To My Thinking, Pleased The King.

The Summer's Flower Is To The Summer Sweet Though To Itself It Only Live And Die

Young Adam Cupid, He That Shot So Trim, When King Cophetua Loved The Beggar-maid!

We Came Into The World Like Brother And Brother, And Now Let's Go Hand In Hand, Not One Before Another.