Now boast thee, death, in thy possession liesA lass unparalleled.

Death where is thy sting? Love, where is thy glory?

Were I like thee, I'd throw away myself.

Get thee to a nunnery.

The caterpillar on the leaf / Repeats to thee thy mother's grief.

Death lies on her like an untimely frostUpon the sweetest flower of all the field.