These Flowers Are Like The

Mine Honour Is My Life; Both Grow In One; Take Honour From Me, And My Life Is Done.

It Is Not, Nor It Cannot, Come To Good, But Break, My Heart, For I Must Hold My Tongue.

You Wear Out A Good Wholesome Forenoon In Hearing A Cause Between An Orange Wife And A Fosset-seller.

Then Hate Me When Thou Wilt, If Ever, Now.

Oh What Fools We Mortals Are.