Why What A Fool Was I To

What To Ourselves In Passion We Propose, The Passion Ending, Doth The Purpose Lose.

O, Thou Hast Damnable Iteration; And Art, Indeed, Able To Corrupt A Saint.

Had It Pleas'd Heaven To Try Me With Affliction * * * I Should Have Found In Some Place Of My Soul A Drop Of Patience.

By Innocence I Swear, And By My Youth, I Have One Heart, One Bosom, And One Truth, And That No Woman Has, Nor Never None Shall Mistress Be Of It Save I Alone.

What Are You Doing Sister? / Killing Swine.