This Look Of Thine Will Hurl My

These Violent Delights Have Violent Ends.

For Oaths Are Straws, Men's Faiths Are Wafer-cakes, And Hold-fast Is The Only Dog.

Lay On, Mcduff, And Be Damned He Who First Cries, 'hold, Enough!

Give Me My Sin Again.

What Win I, If I Gain The Thing I Seek? A Dream, A Breath, A Froth Of Fleeting Joy. Who Buys A Minute's Mirth To Wail A Week? Or Sells Eternity To Get A Toy? For One Sweet Grape Who Will The Vine Destroy? Or What Fond Beggar, But To Touch The Crown, Would With The Sceptre Straight Be Strucken Down?