How Many Times Go We To Comedies,

Pleasure Is None, If Not Diversified.

Love Is A Growing, Or Full Constant Light; And His First Minute, After Noon, Is Night.

Christ Beats His Drum, But He Does Not Press Men; Christ Is Served With Voluntaries.

The Heavens Rejoice In Motion, Why Should I Abjure My So Much Loved Variety.

All Kings, And All Their Favorites, All Glory Of Honors, Beauties, Wits, The Sun Itself, Which Makes Times, As They Pass, Is Elder By A Year, Now, Than It Was When Thou And I First One Another Saw: All Other Things, To Their Destruction Draw, Only Our Love Hath No Decay; This, No Tomorrow Hash, Nor Yesterday, Running, It Never Runs From Us Away, But Truly Keeps His First, Last, Everlasting Day.