The Course Of True Love Never Did

The Sands Are Number'd That Make Up My Life; Here Must I Stay, And Here My Life Must End.

No Deeper Wrinkles Yet? Hath Sorrow Struck So Many Blows Upon This Face Of Mine And Made No Deeper Wounds?

Were It Good To Set The Exact Wealth Of All Our States All At One Cast? To Set So Rich A Main On The Nice Hazard Of One Doubtful Hour? It Were Not Good.

The Words Of Mercury Are Harsh After The Songs Of Apollo.

Our Jovial Star Reigned At His Birth.