Though Death Be Poor, It Ends A

These Flowers Are Like The Pleasures Of The World.

The Heavens Forbid But That Our Loves And Comforts Should Increase Even As Our Days Do Grow!

Mine Honour Is My Life; Both Grow In One; Take Honour From Me, And My Life Is Done.

I Will Praise Any Man That Will Praise Me.

If They Love They Know Not Why, They Hate Upon No Better Ground, They Hate Upon No Better A Ground