Small To Greater Matters Must Give Way.

We Make Guilty Of Our Disasters The Sun, The Moon, And The Stars; As If We Were Villians By Compulsion.

Men That Make Envy And Crooked Malice Nourishment, Dare Bite The Best.

And Why Not Death Rather Than Living Torment? To Die Is To Be Banish'd From Myself; And Silvia Is Myself: Banish'd From Her Is Self From Self: A Deadly Banishment!

If Music Be The Food Of Love, Play On.

For Conspiracy, I Know Not How It Tastes, Though It Be Dished For Me To Try How.