Thus Is His Cheek The

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

Parting Is Such Sweet Sorrow

Melancholy Is The Nurse Of Frenzy.

That, Sir, Which Serves And Seeks For Gain, And Follows But For Form, Will Pack, When It Begins To Rain, And Leave Thee In A Storm.

How Much More Doth Beauty Beauteous Seem By That Sweet Ornament Which Truth Doth Give!