My Soul Is In The Sky.

Angels Are Bright Still, Though The Brightest Fell. Though All Things Foul Would Wear The Brows Of Grace, Yet Grace Must Still Look So.

Tis Now The Very Witching Time Of Night, When Churchyards Yawn And Hell Itself Breathes Out Contagion To This World.

Of Chastity, The Ornaments Are Chaste.

Love Will Not Be Spurred To What It Loathes

You Lie, In Faith; For You Are Call'd Plain Kate, And Bonny Kate And Sometimes Kate The Curst; But Kate, The Prettiest Kate In Christendom Kate Of Kate Hall, My Super-dainty Kate, For Dainties Are All Kates, And Therefore, Kate, Take This Of Me, Kate Of My Consolation; Hearing Thy Mildness Praised In Every Town, Thy Virtues Spoke Of, And Thy Beauty Sounded, Yet Not So Deeply As To Thee Belongs, Myself Am Moved To Woo Thee For My Wife.