Good friend for Jesus sake forbeare, To digg the dust encloased heare! Blest be the man that spares thes stones, And curst be he that moves my bones.
I can no other answer make, but, thanks, and thanks.
The icy precepts of respect.
The stroke of death is as a lover's pinch, which hurts and is desired.
That which in mean men we entitle patience is pale cold cowardice in noble breasts.
Against love's fire fear`s frost hath dissolution