The Cow Knows Not What

A Broken Altar, Lord, Thy Servant Rears, Made Of A Heart, And Cemented With Tears.

Drink Not The Third Glass, Which Thou Canst Not Tame, When Once It Is Within Thee; But Before Mayst Rule It, As Thou List: And Pour The Shame, Which It Would Pour On Thee, Upon The Floor. It Is Most Just To Throw That On The Ground, Which Would Throw Me There, If I Keep The Round.

Hee Begins To Die, That Quits His Desires.

No Love Is Foule, Nor Prison Fair.

Although It Raine, Throw Not Away Thy Watering Pot.