Where Souls Do Couch On Flowers We'll

I Have Not Slept One Wink.

The Color Of The King Doth Come And Go, Between His Purpose And His Conscience, Like Heralds 'twixt Two Dreadful Battles Set: His Passion Is So Ripe, It Needs Must Break.

Heaven Truly Knows That Thou Art False As Hell.

Report Of Fashions In Proud Italy Whose Manners Still Our Tardy-apish Nation Limps After In Base Imitation

What To Ourselves In Passion We Propose, The Passion Ending, Doth The Purpose Lose.