Chewing The Food Of Sweet And Bitter

And To Be Merry Best Becomes You; For, Out Of Question, You Were Born In A Merry Hour. Beatrice No, Sure, My Lord, My Mother Cried; But Then There Was A Star Danced, And Under That Was I Born.

The Thorny Point Of Bare Distress Hath Ta'en From Me The Show Of Smooth Civility; Yet Am I Inland Bred And Know Some Nurture.

... And Death Unloads Thee.

You Will Never Age For Me, Nor Fade, Nor Die.

If It Will Feed Nothing Else, It Will Feed My Revenge.