I Know A Lady In Venice Would

Short Summers Lightly Have A Forward Spring.

They Are Fairies; He That Speaks To Them Shall Die. I'll Wink And Couch; No Man Their Works Must Eye.

I Despised My Arrival On This Earth And I Despise My Departure; It Is A Tragedy.

O Thou Invisible Spirit Of Wine, If Thou Hast No Name To Be Known By, Let Us Call Thee Devil.

Is This The Generation Of Love? Hot Blood, Hot Thoughts And Hot Deeds? Why, They Are Vipers. Is Love A Generation Of Vipers?