And Send Him Many Years

Melancholy Is The Nurse Of Frenzy.

Shall I Not Take Mine Ease In Mine Inn But I Shall Have My Pocket Picked?

We Have Seen Better Days.

My Mistress' Eyes Are Nothing Like The Sun

What, Gone Without A Word? Ay, So True Love Should Do; It Cannot Speak, For Truth Hath Better Deeds Than Words To Grace It.