O Hell! To Choose Love With Another's

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

So Fair And Foul A Day I Had Not Seen.

I'll Read Enough When I Do See The Very Book Indeed Where All My Sins Are Writ, And That's Myself.

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 Hands Are Of Your Color, But I Shame To Wear A Heart So White.