So, So, Break Off This Last Lamenting

Women Are Like The Arts, Forced Unto None, Open To All Searchers, Unprized, If Unknown.

. . . Change Is The Nursery Of Musicke, Joy, Life And Eternity.

How Great Love Is, Presence Best Trial Makes, But Absence Tries How Long This Love Will Be.

If Ever Any Beauty I Did See, Which I Desired, And Got, 'twas But A Dream Of Thee.

How Many Times Go We To Comedies, To Masques, To Places Of Great And Noble Resort, Nay Even To Church Only To See The Company.