The Bitter Clamor Of Two Eager Tongues.

Friendship Is Constant In All Other Things Save In The Office And Affairs Of Love. Therefore All Hearts In Love Use Their Own Tongues. Let Every Eye Negotiate For Itself, And Trust No Agent; For Beauty Is A Witch Against Whose Charms Faith Melteth Into Blood.

How Sweet The Moonlight Sleeps Upon This Bank Here We Will Sit, And Let The Sounds Of Music Creep In Our Ears; Soft Stillness, And The Night Become The Touches Of Sweet Harmony

A Poor Thing, Perhaps, But My Own.

The Time Is Out Of Joint.

For God's Sake, Let Us Sit Upon The Ground, And Tell Sad Stories Of The Death Of Kings... All Murdered; For Within The Hollow Crown That Rounds The Mortal Temples Of A King, Keeps Death His Court... And With A Little Pin Bores Through His Castle Wall, And Farewell King!