Romeo, Romeo, Wherefore Art Thou

So Many Hours Must I Take My Rest; So Many Hours Must I Contemplate.

Religious Canons, Civil Laws, Are Cruel; Then What Should War Be?

How Many Fond Fools Serve Mad Jealousy!

Do All Men Kill The Things They Do Not Love?

Fear No More The Heat O' Th' Sun Nor The Furious Winters' Rages; Thou Thy Worldly Task Hast Done, Home Art Gone, And Ta'en Thy Wages. Golden Lads And Girls All Must, As Chimney-sweepers, Come To Dust.