The Lady Doth Protest Too

How Art Thou Out Of Breath When Thou Hast Breath To Say To Me That Thou Art Out Of Breath?

Be Wise As Thou Art Cruel, Do Not Press My Tongue-tied Patience With Too Much Disdain: Lest Sorrow Lend Me Words And Words Express, The Manner Of My Pity-wanting Pain.

Sweets To The Sweet.

I Count Myself In Nothing Else So Happy As In A Soul Remembering My Good Friends

Your Praises Will Become Your Wages.