Conceit In Weakest Bodies Works

Awake, Awake, English Nobility! Let Not Sloth Dim Your Horrors New-begot.

His Steeds To Water At Those Springs On Chaliced Flowers That Lies; And Winking Mary-buds Begin To Ope Their Golden Eyes: With Every Thing That Pretty Is, My Lady Sweet, Arise.

How Sweet The Moonlight Sleeps Upon This Bank Here We Will Sit, And Let The Sounds Of Music Creep In Our Ears; Soft Stillness, And The Night Become The Touches Of Sweet Harmony

Let's Teach Ourselves That Honorable Stop, Not To Outsport Discretion.

And, If You Love Me, As I Think You Do, Let's Kiss And Part, For We Have Much To Do