If Music Be The Food Of Love,

Whats Here A Cup Closed In My True Loves Hand Poisin I See Hath Been His Timeless End. Oh Churl Drunk All And Left No Friendly Drop To Help Me After. I Will Kiss Thy Lips Some Poisin Doth Hang On Them, To Help Me Die With A Restorative. Thy Lips Are Warm. Yea Noise Then Ill Be Brief Oh Happy Dagger This Is Thy Sheath. There Rust And Let Me Die.

Come, And Take Choice Of All My Library, And So Beguile Thy Sorrow.

Teach Me, Dear Creature, How To Think And Speak; Lay Open To My Earthy-gross Conceit, Smother'd In Errors, Feeble, Shallow, Weak, The Folded Meaning Of Your Words' Deceit.

I Knew When Seven Justices Could Not Take Up A Quarrel, But When The Parties Were Met Themselves, One Of Them Thought But Of An If, As, 'if You Said So, Then I Said So;' And They Shook Hands And Swore Brothers. Your If Is The Only Peacemaker; Much Virtue In If.

Lawless Are They That Make Their Wills Their Law.