Fare Thee Well, King: Sith Thus Thou

The Pleasing Punishment That Women Bear.

All Pity Choked With Custom Of Fell Deeds.

The Poet's Eye, In A Fine Frenzy Rolling, Doth Glance From Heaven To Earth, From Earth To Heaven.

Time, That Takes Survey Of All The World, Must Have A Stop.

Fair Ladies, Masked, Are Roses In Their Bud; Dismasked, The Damask Sweet Commixture Shown, Are Angels Vailing Clouds, Or Roses Blown.