There hath grown no grass on my heels since I went hence.
I am sorie God made me so comely.
Wowers never speede well, that have a false harte.
For Myrth prolongeth lyfe, and causeth health.
There is nothing wherein their womanliness is more honestly garnished than with silence.
That same manne, that renneth awaye,Maye again fight, an other daye.
Since I went no grasse hath growne on my hele.
Gay love, God save it, so soone hotte, so soone colde.
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