I Know A Lady In Venice Would

How Sweet The Moonlight Sleeps Upon This Bank Here We Will Sit, And Let The Sounds Of Music Creep In Our Ears; Soft Stillness, And The Night Become The Touches Of Sweet Harmony

Do Not Give Dalliance Too Much Rein; The Strongest Oaths Are Straw To The Fire In The Blood.

The Best Quarrels, In The Heat, Are Cursed By Those That Feel Their Sharpness.

Dream On, Dream On, Of Bloody Deeds And Death.

I Had Rather Be A Dog, And Bay The Moon, Than Such A Roman.