We Cannot Fight For Love, As Men

Bondage Is Hoarse, And May Not Speak Aloud.

To Gild Refined Gold, To Paint The Lily... Is Wasteful And Ridiculous Excess

Now The Time Is Come, That France Must Veil Her Lofty-plumed Crest, And Let Her Head Fall Into England's Lap.

Had I But Died An Hour Before This Chance, I Had Liv'd A Blessed Time; For, From This Instant, There's Nothing Serious In Mortality: All Is But Toys; Renown, And Grace Is Dead; The Wine Of Life Is Drawn, And The Mere Lees Is Left This Vault To Brag Of.

Adieu, Adieu, Adieu! Remember Me.