The Best Is Yet To Come.

What Sadness Lengthens Romeo’s Hours?

What If This Cursed Hand Were Thicker Than Itself With Brother's Blood Is There Not Rain Enough In The Sweet Heaves To Wash It White As Snow?

For Man Is A Giddy Thing, And This Is My Conclusion.

Will All Great Neptune's Ocean Wash This Blood Clean From My Hand? No, This My Hand Will Rather The Multitudinous Seas Incarnadine, Making The Green One Red.

The Present Eye Praises The Present Object.