Thus With A Kiss I Die

As There Comes Light From Heaven And Words From Breath, As There Is Sense In Truth And Truth In Virtue

I Am Not Merry, But I Do Beguile The Thing I Am By Seeming Otherwise.

Come Unto These Yellow Sands, And Then Take Hands. Curtsied When You Have And Kissed The Wild Waves Whist, Foot Is Featly Here And There; And, Sweet Sprites, The Burden Bear. Ariel's Song, Scene Ii, Act I

Will Fortune Never Come With Both Hands Full, But Write Her Fair Words Still In Foulest Terms?

Can It Be That Modesty May More Betray Our Sense Than Woman's Lightness? Having Waste Ground Enough, Shall We Desire To Raze The Sanctuary And Pitch Our Evils There?