Finish, good lady; the bright day is done, And we are for the Dark.
It is held that valor is the chiefest virtue, and most dignifies the haver.
Thus die I, thus, thus, thus. Now am I dead, Now am I fled; My soul is in the sky: Tongue, lose thy light; Moon take thy flight. Now die, die, die, die, die.
And send him many years of sunshine days!
I understand thy kisses, and thou mine, And that's a feeling disputation.
Aand in the end, Having my freedom, boast of nothing else But that I was a journeyman to grief?