A Fool's Bolt Is Soon Shot.

Alas, How Love Can Trifle With Itself!

There Is Throats To Be Cut, And Works To Be Done.

Nature Does Require Her Time Of Preservation, Which Perforce, I Her Frail Son Amongst My Brethren Mortal, Must Give My Attendance To.

Where Souls Do Couch On Flowers We'll Hand In Hand.

Some Are Born Great, Others Achieve Greatness.