My Heart Suspects More Than Mine Eye

Time Be Thine, And Thy Best Graces Spend It At Thy Will.

He Does It With Better Grace, But I Do It More Natural.

And The More Pity That Great Folk Should Have Count'nance In This World To Drown Or Hang Themselves More Than Their Even-christen.

Words, Vows, Gifts, Tears, And Love's Full Sacrifice, He Offers In Another's Enterprise; But More In Troilus Thousand-fold I See Than In The Glass Of Pandar's Praise May Be, Yet Hold I Off.

Are You Sure/that We Are Awake? It Seems To Me/that Yet We Sleep, We Dream