Even Through The Hollow Eyes Of Death

The Wheel Is Come Full Circle.

Parting Is Such Sweet Sorrow

As A Walled Town Is More Worthier Than A Village, So Is The Forehead Of A Married Man More Honorable Than The Bare Brow Of A Bachelor.

Passion Makes The Will Lord Of The Reason.

Two Loves I Have, Of Comfort And Despair, Which Like Two Spirits Do Suggest Me Still: The Better Angel Is A Man Right Fair, The Worser Spirit A Woman Coloured Ill.