Words, Words, Mere Words, No Matter From

She Cannot Love, Nor Take No Shape Nor Project Or Affection, She Is So Self-endeared

To Kill, I Grant, Is Sin's Extremest Gust; But, In Defence, By Mercy, 'tis Most Just.

If Fortune Torments Me, Hope Contents Me.

As Merry As The Day Is Long.

While Thou Livest Keep A Good Tongue In Thy Head.