How Hard It Is For

To Saucy Doubts And Fears.

Sweets Grown Common Lose Their Dear Delight.

I Have Full Cause Of Weeping, But This Heart Shall Break Into A Hundred Thousand Flaws Or Ere I'll Weep.

O, That Our Fathers Would Applause Our Loves, To Seal Our Happiness With Hteir Consents!

I Can Give The Loser Leave To Chide.