So Shalt Thou Feed On Death, That

The Fortune Of Us That Are The Moon's Men Doth Ebb And Flow Like The Sea, Being Governed, As The Sea Is, By The Moon.

You Had Measured How Long A Fool You Were Upon The Ground.

She Speaks Poniards, And Every Word Stabs: If Her Breath Were As Terrible As Her Terminations, There Were No Living Near Her; She Would Infect To The North Star. I Would Not Marry Her, Though She Were Endowed With All That Adam Bad Left Him Before He Transgressed.

She Speaks Poniards, And Every Word Stabs.

In Love The Heavens Themselves Do Guide The State; Money Buys Lands, And Wives Are Sold By Fate.