I Would Give All Of My Fame

A Pair Of Star-crossed Lovers.

Be Still Prepared For Death: And Death Or Life Shall Thereby Be The Sweeter.

O Coward Conscience, How Dost Thou Afflict Me!

Take No Repulse, Whatever She Doth Say; For 'get You Gone,' She Doth Not Mean 'away.' Flatter And Praise, Commend, Extol Their Graces; Though Ne'er So Black, Say They Have Angels' Faces

All's Well That Ends Well; Still The Fine's The Crown. Whate'er The Course, The End Is The Renown.