God Shall Be My Hope, My Stay,

Too Much Of Water Hast Thou, Poor Ophelia, And Therefore I Forbid My Tears.

Lovers Ever Run Before The Clock

If Thou Dost Love, Proclaim It Faithfully.

How Use Doth Breed A Habit In A Man.

Conceal Me What I Am, And Be My Aid For Such Disguise As Haply Shall Become The Form Of My Intent.