Unsubstantial Death Is Amorous.

Time Is Like A Fashionable Host That Slightly Shakes His Parting Guest By The Hand, And With His Arm Outstretch'd, As He Would Fly, Grasps In The Comer.

Now, Infidel, I Have You On The Hip!

Finish, Good Lady; The Bright Day Is Done, And We Are For The Dark.

The Instruments Of Darkness Tell Us Truths.

The Color Of The King Doth Come And Go, Between His Purpose And His Conscience, Like Heralds 'twixt Two Dreadful Battles Set: His Passion Is So Ripe, It Needs Must Break.