A Horse, A Horse, My

When We Are Born We Cry That We Are Come To This Great Stage Of Fools.

I Love Thee; None But Thee, And Thou Deservest It

If One Good Deed In All My Life I Did, I Do Repent It From My Very Soul.

For Now They Kill Me With A Living Death.

What, Gone Without A Word? Ay, So True Love Should Do; It Cannot Speak, For Truth Hath Better Deeds Than Words To Grace It.