The Nature Of Bad News Affects The

When You Depart From Me Sorrow Abides And Happiness Takes His Leave.

I Thought My Heart Had Been Wounded With The Claws Of A Lion.

I'll Follow Thee And Make A Heaven Of Hell, To Die Upon The Hand I Love So Well

When Griping Grief The Heart Doth Wound, And Doleful Dumps The Mind Opresses, Then Music, With Her Silver Sound, With Speedy Help Doth Lend Redress.

Mean And Mighty, Rotting Together, Have One Dust.