How Every Fool Can Play

In Black Ink My Love May Still Shine Bright.

Self-love, My Liege, Is Not So Vile A Sin, As Self-neglecting.

Have Not Saints Lips, And Holy Palmers Too Ay, Pilgrim, Lips That They Must Use In Prayer.

Live How We Can, Yet Die We Must.

For Never Was A Story Of More Woe Than This Of Juliet And Her Romeo.