I Bear A Charmed Life, Which Must

Blow, Blow, Thou Winter Wind Thou Art Not So Unkind, As Man's Ingratitude.

I Kissed Thee Ere I Killed Thee. No Way But This, Killing Myself, To Die Upon A Kiss.

Constant You Are, But Yet A Woman; And For Secrecy, No Lady Closer; For I Well Believe Thou Wilt Not Utter What Thou Dost Not Know.

Time Be Thine, And Thy Best Graces Spend It At Thy Will.

Great Men May Jest With Saints; 'tis Wit In Them; But, In The Less Foul Profanation.