The Person Lives Twice Who Lives The

You Say To Me-wards Your Affection's Strong; Pray Love Me Little, So You Love Me Long.

Feed Him Ye Must, Whose Food Fills You. And That This Pleasure Is Like Raine, Not Sent Ye For To Drowne Your Paine, But For To Make It Spring Againe.

He Loves His Bonds Who, When The First Are Broke, Submits His Neck Into A Second Yoke.

My Soul I'll Pour Into Thee.

Roses At First Were White, Till Thy Co'd Not Agree, Whether My Sapho's Breast, Or They More White Sho'd Be.