This Look Of Thine Will Hurl My

I Do Love Nothing In The World So Well As You- Is Not That Strange?

Tis Time To Fear When Tyrants Seem To Kiss.

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?

Let Me Tell You, Cassius, You Yourself Are Much Condemned To Have An Itching Palm.

Thou Art A Soul In Bliss; But I Am Bound Upon A Wheel Of Fire; That Mine Own Tears Do Scald Like Molten Lead.