You told a lie, an odious damned lie; Upon my soul, a lie, a wicked lie.

Their lips were four red roses on a stalk.

Look, what a horse should have he did not lack, Save a proud rider on his back.

whats here a cup closed in my true loves hand poisin i see hath been his timeless end. oh churl drunk all and left no friendly drop to help me after. i will kiss thy lips some poisin doth hang on them, to help me die with a restorative. thy lips are warm. yea noise then ill be brief oh happy dagger this is thy sheath. there rust and let me die.

It is that fery person for all the orld, as just as you will desire; and seven hundred pounds of moneys, and gold, and silver, is her grandsire upon his death's-bed-Got deliver to a joyful resurrections!

In thy foul throat thou liest.

An habitation giddy and unsure Hath he that buildeth on the vulgar heart.