My World's Both Parts, And 'o! Both

And New Philosophy Calls All In Doubt, The Element Of Fire Is Quite Put Out; The Sun Is Lost, And The Earth, And No Mans Wit Can Well Direct Him Where To Look For It.

But I Do Nothing Upon Myself, And Yet I Am My Own Executioner.

And Swear No Where Lives A Woman True, And Fair.

Who Knows His Virtues Name Or Place, Hath None.

Busy Old Fool, Unruly Sun, Why Dost Thou Thus Through Windows And Through Curtains Call On Us? Must To Thy Motions Lovers Seasons Run?