Death, A Necessary End, Will Come When

O Most Delicate Fiend! Who Is't Can Read A Woman? Is There More?

Mercy Is Not Itself, That Oft Looks So; Pardon Is Still The Nurse Of Second Woe.

Of Chastity, The Ornaments Are Chaste.

When He Is Best, He Is A Little Worse Than A Man; And When He Is Worst, He Is Little Better Than A Beast.

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.