Loathsome Canker Lives In Sweetest Bud.

Tis A Cruelty To Load A Fallen Man.

It Is A Basilisk Unto Mine Eye, Kills Me To Look On't.

Even As One Heat Another Heat Expels, Or As One Nail By Strength Drives Out Another, So The Remembrance Of My Former Love Is By A Newer Object Quite Forgotten.

To Die: - To Sleep: No More; And, By A Sleep To Say We End The Heart-ache And The Thousand Natural Shocks That Flesh Is Heir To, 'tis A Consummation Devoutly To Be Wished.

An Honest Tale Speeds Best Being Plainly Told.