Our Wills And Fates Do So Contrary

For Now I Stand As One Upon A Rock Environed With A Wilderness Of Sea, Who Marks The Waxing Tide Grow Wave By Wave, Expecting Ever When Some Envious Surge Will In His Brinish Bowels Swallow Him.

Is She Not Passing Fair?

I Do Begin To Have Bloody Thoughts.

Take It In What Sense Thou Wilt.

I Do Know When The Blood Burns, How Prodigal The Soul Lends The Tongue Vows.