I'll be damned for never a king's son in Christendom.

Were all the letters sun, I could not see one.

But wherefore could not I pronounce 'Amen'? I had most need of blessing, and 'Amen' Stuck in my throat.

So we grew together like to a double cherry, seeming parted, but yet an union in partition, two lovely berries molded on one stem.

Look like the innocent flower, But be the serpent under it.

And will he not come again? And will he not come again? No, no, he is dead. Go to thy deathbed. He never will come again.

By Heaven, I love thee better than myself