Leave Us To Our Free Election.

There's Husbandry In Heaven; Their Candles Are All Out.

I'll Speak In A Monstrous Little Voice.

And Do So, Love, Yet When They Have Devised What Strainèd Touches Rhetoric Can Lend, Thou, Truly Fair, Wert Truly Sympathized In True Plain Words By Thy True-telling Friend; And Their Gross Painting Might Be Better Used Where Cheeks Need Blood; In Thee It Is Abused.

Love And Meekness, Lord, Become A Churchman Better Than Ambition: Win Straying Souls With Modesty Again, Cast None Away.

Lady, With Me, With Me Thy Fortune Lies.