When once our grace we have forgot, Nothing goes right.

He took the bride about the neck and kissed her lips with such a clamorous smack that at the parting all the church did echo.

O England! Model to thy inward greatness, like little body with a might heart.

Love is like a child, That longs for everything it can come by

Now my charms are all o'erthrown.

Each present joy or sorrow seems the chief.

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.