Our Critical Day Is Not The Very

Sleep Is Pain's Easiest Salve, And Doth Fulfil All Offices Of Death, Except To Kill.

And When A Whirl-winde Hath Blowne The Dust Of The Churchyard Into The Church, And Man Sweeps Out The Dust Of The Church Into The Church-yard, Who Will Undertake To Sift Those Dusts Again, And To Pronounce, This Is The Patrician, This Is The Noble Flower, And This The Yeomanly, This The Plebian Bran.

Without Outward Declarations, Who Can Conclude An Inward Love?

My Love Though Silly Is More Brave.

So, So, Break Off This Last Lamenting Kiss, Which Sucks Two Souls, And Vapors Both Away.