My Heart Suspects More Than Mine Eye

Come Away, Come Away, Death, And In Sad Cypress Let Me Be Laid; Fly Away, Fly Away, Breath, I Am Slain By A Fair Cruel Maid. My Shroud Of White Stuck All With Yew, O Prepare It! My Part Of Death No One So True Did Share It. Not A Flower, Not A Flower Sweet, On My Black Coffin Let There Be Strewn: Not A Friend, Not A Friend Greet My Poor Corpse, Where My Bones Shall Be Thrown. A Thousand Thousand Sighs To Save, Lay Me O Where Sad True Lover Never Find My Grave, To Weep There!

Twas Never Merry World Since Lowly Feigning Was Called Compliment.

This Is No Time To Lend Money, Especially Upon Bare Friendship Without Security.

A Time, Methinks, Too Short To Make A World-without-end Bargain In.

You Take My House When You Do Take The Prop That Doth Sustain My House; You Take My Life When You Do Take The Means Whereby I Live.