I Am Not Merry, But I Do

My Heart Suspects More Than Mine Eye Can See.

No Villainous Bounty Yet Hath Passed My Heart; Unwisely, Not Ignobly, Have I Given.

Dost Thou Love Hawking? Thou Hast Hawks Will Soar Above The Morning Lark.

Better Three Hours Too Soon, Than One Hour To Late.

Thus Die I, Thus, Thus, Thus. Now Am I Dead, Now Am I Fled; My Soul Is In The Sky: Tongue, Lose Thy Light; Moon Take Thy Flight. Now Die, Die, Die, Die, Die.