When Sorrows Come, They Come

Where The Greater Malady Is Fixed, The Lesser Is Scarce Felt.

Now, By The World, It Is A Lusty Wench; I Love Her Ten Times More Than E'er I Did: O, How I Long To Have Some Chat With Her!

Let Every Eye Negotiate For Itself And Trust No Agent.

Lady, You Are The Cruel'st She Alive If You Will Lead These Graces To The Grave And Leave The World No Copy.

The Big Round Tears Cours'd One Another Down His Innocent Nose, In Piteous Chase.