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Fearfulness, contrary to all other vices, maketh a man think the better of another, the worse of himself.
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Oft have I mused, but now at length I find, Why those that die, men say they do depart.
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My true-love hath my heart, and I have his, By just exchange, one for the other given: I hold his dear, and mine he cannot miss, There never was a better bargain driven.
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Then farewell, world; thy uttermost I see; Eternal Love, maintain thy life in me.
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Let my whispering voice obtain Sweet reward for sharpest pain;
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