The Stroke Of Death Is As A

I Find My Zenith Doth Depend Upon A Most Auspicious Star, Whose Influence If Now I Court Not, But Omit, My Fortunes Will Ever After Droop.

To Some Kind Of Men Their Graces Serve Them But As Enemies.

When You Do Dance, I Wish You A Wave O' The Sea, That You Might Ever Do Nothing But That.

My Love Is Thaw'd; Which, Like A Waxen Image 'gainst A Fire, Bears No Impression Of The Thing It Was

Mean And Mighty, Rotting Together, Have One Dust.