I Charge Thee, Hence, And Do Not

As Full Of Spirit As The Month Of May, And As Gorgeous As The Sun In Midsummer.

Lechery, Lechery; Still, Wars And Lechery: Nothing Else Holds Fashion.

Don't Waste Your Love On Somebody, Who Doesn't Value It.

He Does It With Better Grace, But I Do It More Natural.

By Heaven, I Do Love: And It Hath Taught Me To Rhyme, And To Be Mekancholy.