Many A Man's Tongue Shakes Out His

Lords, I Protest My Soul Is Full Of Woe That Blood Should Sprinkle Me To Make Me Grow. Come, Mourn With Me For What I Do Lament, And Put Sullen Black Incontinent. I'll Make A Voyage To The Holy Land To Wash This Blood Off From My Guilty Hand. March Sadly After. Grace My Mournings Here In Weeping After This Untimely Bier.

I Have Pursued Her, As Love Hath Pursued Me

Preposterous Ass, That Never Read So Far To Know The Cause Why Music Was Ordain'd! Was It Not To Refresh The Mind Of Man, After His Studies Or His Usual Pain?

That Is My Home Of Love: If I Have Ranged, Like Him That Travels I Return Again, Just To The Time, Not With The Time Exchanged.

All Is Well Ended If This Suit Be Won. That You Express Content; Which We Will Pay, With Strife To Please You, Day Exceeding Day.