God's Will! My Liege, Would You And

You Cram These Words Into Mine Ears Against The Stomach Of My Sense.

Feed On Her Damask Cheek: She Pined In Thought, And With A Green And Yellow Melancholy She Sat Like Patience On A Monument, Smiling At Grief

A Pair Of Star-crossed Lovers.

I Cannot But Remember Such Things Were That Were Most Precious To Me.

Cursed Be The Hand That Made These Fatal Holes.