How Can Tyrants Safely Govern Home, Unless

Love Is My Sin, And Thy Dear Virtue Hate, Hate Of My Sin, Grounded On Sinful Loving.

I Have A Soul Of Lead So Stakes Me To The Ground I Cannot Move.

What Say You To A Piece Of Beef And Mustard?

Upon His Royal Face There Is No Note How Dread An Army Hath Enrounded Him.

See, What A Ready Tongue Suspicion Hath! He That But Fears The Thing He Would Not Know, Hath, By Instinct, Knowledge From Others' Eyes, That What He Feared Is Chanced.