Thieves For Their Robbery Have

These Violent Delights Have Violent Ends And In Their Triumph Die, Like Fire And Powder, Which As They Kiss Consume. The Sweetest Honey Is Loathsome In His Own Deliciousness And In The Taste Confounds The Appetite. Therefore Love Moderately; Long Love Doth So; Too Swift Arrives As Tardy As Too Slow.

My Love Is As A Fever, Longing Still.

The Devil Knew What He Did When He Made Men Politic; He Crossed Himself By It.

O! Let Me Not Be Mad, Not Mad, Sweet Heaven; Keep Me In Temper; I Would Not Be Mad!

Methought I Heard A Voice Cry 'sleep No More! Macbeth Does Murder Sleep', The Innocent Sleep, Sleep That Knits Up The Ravell'd Sleeve Of Care, The Death Of Each Day's Life, Sore Labour's Bath, Balm Of Hurt Minds, Great Nature's Second Course, Chief Nourisher In Life's Feast...