Adieu, Adieu, Adieu! Remember Me.

The Bitter Clamor Of Two Eager Tongues.

I Hold The World But As The World, Gratiano!

Time, That Takes Survey Of All The World, Must Have A Stop.

. . . It Is Impossible You Should Take True Root But By The Fair Weather That You Make Yourself It Is Needful That You Frame The Season Of Your Own Harvest.

This Thing Of Darkness I Acknowledge Mine.