This World To Me Is

A Man Can Die But Once.

All Pity Choked With Custom Of Fell Deeds.

Value Dwells Not In Particular Will; It Holds His Estimate And Dignity As Well Wherein 'tis Precious Of Itself As In The Prizer.

Shall I Never See A Bachelor Of Three Score Again?

O, How I Faint When I Of You Do Write, Knowing A Better Spirit Doth Use Your Name, And In The Praise Thereof Spends All His Might To Make Me Tongue-tied Speaking Of Your Fame.