Muster Your Wits; Stand In Your Own

What, Can The Devil Speak True?

I Must Be Cruel, Only To Be Kind.

Ay, But Hearken, Sir; Though The Chameleon Love Can Feed On The Air, I Am One That Am Nourished By My Victuals, And Would Fain Have Meat.

My Joy Is Death- Death, At Whose Name I Oft Have Been Afeard, Because I Wish'd This World's Eternity.

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