Oh! It Offends Me To The Soul

I Cannot Speak Your England.

Men Have Died From Time To Time, And Worms Have Eaten Them, But Not For Love.

Then Love-devouring Death Do What He Dare.

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

But Till All Graces Be In One Woman, One Woman Shall Not Come In My Grace. Rich She Shall Be, That's Certain; Wise, Or I'll None; Virtuous, Or I'll Never Cheapen Her; Fair, Or I'll Never Look On Her; Mild, Or Come Not Near Me; Noble, Or Not I For An Angel; Of Good Discourse, And Excellent Musician And Her Hair Shall Be Of What Colour It Shall Please God.