Be To Yourself As You

There Is Throats To Be Cut, And Works To Be Done.

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

Ruin Has Taught Me To Ruminate, That Time Will Come And Take My Love Away. This Thought Is As A Death, Which Cannot Choose But Weep To Have That Which It Fears To Lose.

If She Be Fair And Wise, Fairness And Wit, The One's For Use, The Other Useth It.

Ay, Is It Not A Language I Speak?