What, Can The Devil Speak True?

Oh, Injurious Love, That Respites Me A Life, Whose Very Comfort Is Still A Dying Horror

An Earnest Conjuration From The King, As England Was His Faithful Tributary, As Love Between Them Like The Palm Might Flourish, As Peace Should Still Her Wheaten Garland Wear And Stand A Comma 'tween Their Amities, And Many Such-like As's Of Great Charge, That, On The View And Knowing Of These Contents, Without Debatement Further, More Or Less, He Should The Bearers Put To Sudden Death, Not Shriving Time Allow'd.

Wisdom Cries Out In The Streets, And No Man Regards It.

My Age Is As A Lusty Winter, Frosty But Kindly.

And, If You Love Me, As I Think You Do, Let's Kiss And Part, For We Have Much To Do