My Heart Is Ever At Your Service.

Love Denied Blights The Soul We Owe To God.

Be Wise As Thou Art Cruel, Do Not Press My Tongue-tied Patience With Too Much Disdain: Lest Sorrow Lend Me Words And Words Express, The Manner Of My Pity-wanting Pain.

A Cup Of Hot Wine With Not A Drop Of Allaying Tiber In 't.

And When Love Speaks, The Voice Of All The Gods Makes Heaven Drowsy With The Harmony.

And Gentlemen In England Now-a-bed Shall Think Themselves Accurs'd They Were Not Here, And Hold Their Manhoods Cheap Whiles Any Speaks That Fought With Us Upon Saint Crispin's Day.