Men In Rage Strike Those

Examine Well Your Blood.

Oh Why Rebuke You Him That Loves You So? / Lay Breath So Bitter On Your Bitter Foe.

If [god] Send Me No Husband, For The Which Blessing I Am At Him Upon My Knees Every Morning And Evening.

O, Let My Books Be Then The Eloquence And Dumb Presages Of My Speaking Breast.

So Full Of Artless Jealousy Is Guilt, It Spills Itself In Fearing To Be Spilt.