My Only Love Sprung From

Beshrew The Heart That Makes My Heart To Groan.

Weep Not, Sweet Queen, For Trickling Tears Are Vain.

Absence Doth Sharpen Love, Presence Strengthens It; The One Brings Fuel, The Other Blows It Till It Burns Clear.

'tis Better To Be Vile Than Vile Esteemed, When Not To Be, Receives Reproach Of Being, And The Just Pleasure Lost, Which Is So Deemed, Not By Our Feeling, But By Others' Seeing.

I Heard A Bustling Rumor Like A Fray, And The Wind Blows It From The Capitol.