The World Is Not Thy Friend, Nor

Sweets With Sweets War Not, Joy Delights In Joy.

Sweet Recreation Barred, What Doth Ensue But Moody And Dull Melancholy, Kinsman To Grim And Comfortless Despair.

That England, That Was Wont To Conquer Others, Hath Made A Shameful Conquest Of Itself.

An Two Men Ride Of A Horse, One Must Ride Behind.

True, I Talk Of Dreams, Which Are The Children Of An Idle Brain, Begot Of Nothing But Vain Fantasy.