But Fish Not With This Melancholy Bait

Ambition, The Soldier's Virtue.

All Things That We Ordained Festival Turn From Their Office To Black Funeral-- Our Instruments To Melancholy Bells, Our Wedding Cheer To A Sad Burial Feast; Our Solemn Hymns To Sullen Dirges Change; Our Bridal Flowers Serve For A Buried Corse; And All Things Change Them To The Contrary.

I Have Pursued Her, As Love Hath Pursued Me

If It Be A Sin To Covet Honor, I Am The Most Offending Soul.

I Kissed Thee Ere I Killed Thee. No Way But This, Killing Myself, To Die Upon A Kiss.