Thou Art Sad; Get Thee A Wife,

Cowards Die Many Times Before Their Deaths; The Valiant Never Taste Of Death But Once. Of All The Wonders That I Yet Have Heard, It Seems To Me Most Strange That Men Should Fear; Seeing That Death, A Necessary End, Will Come When It Will Come.

Away! Thou'rt Poison To My Blood.

In Delay There Lies No Plenty.

I'll Follow Thee And Make A Heaven Of Hell, To Die Upon The Hand I Love So Well

The Law Hath Not Been Dead, Though It Hath Slept.