What Must Be Shall Be.

For I Can Raise No Money By Vile Means.

Lay Not That Flattering Unction To Your Soul, That Not Your Trespass But My Madness Speaks.

No Villainous Bounty Yet Hath Passed My Heart; Unwisely, Not Ignobly, Have I Given.

Love Is A Spirit All Compact Of Fire.

O, Swear Not By The Moon, The Fickle Moon, The Inconstant Moon, That Monthly Changes In Her Circle Orb, Lest That Thy Love Prove Likewise Variable