With Love's Light Wings Did I O'er-perch

It Warms The Very Sickness In My Heart, That I Shall Live And Tell Him To His Teeth, "thus Diddest Thou;"

And Gentlemen In England Now-a-bed Shall Think Themselves Accurs'd They Were Not Here, And Hold Their Manhoods Cheap Whiles Any Speaks That Fought With Us Upon Saint Crispin's Day.

Sufferance Is The Badge Of All Our Tribe.

O How Wretched Is That Poor Man That Hangs On Princes Favors! There Is Betwixt That Smile We Would Aspire To, That Sweet Aspect Of Princes, And Their Ruin, More Pangs And Fears Than Wars Or Women Have, And When He Falls, He Falls Like Lucifer, Never To Hope Again.

God Mark Thee To His Grace! Thou Was The Prettiest Babe That E'er I Nursed. And Might I Live To See Thee Married Once, I Have My Wish.