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Good hay, sweet hay, hath no fellow.
Good hay, sweet hay, hath no fellow.
Feare, the Bedle of the Law.
Feare, the Bedle of the Law.
And Jove but laughs at lovers' perjury.
And Jove but laughs at lovers' perjury.
There is a certain kind of pleasure in weeping.
There is a certain kind of pleasure in weeping.
It's absurd to warme one in his armour.
It's absurd to warme one in his armour.
Hee lookes not well to himselfe that lookes not ever.
Hee lookes not well to himselfe that lookes not ever.
No sooner is a Temple built to God but the Devill builds a
Chappell hard by.
[No sooner read more
No sooner is a Temple built to God but the Devill builds a
Chappell hard by.
[No sooner is a Temple built to God but the Devil builds a chapel
hard by.]
