These Violent Delights Have Violent Ends.

There Is A River In Macedon, And There Is Moreover A River In Monmouth. It Is Called Wye At Monmouth, But It Is Out Of My Prains What Is The Name Of The Other River; But 'tis All One, 'tis Alike As My Fingers Is To My Fingers, And There Is Salmons In Both.

Through Tattered Clothes, Small Vices Do Appear. Robes And Furred Gowns Hide All.

Where Hateful Death Put On His Ugliest Mask.

Every Inordinate Cup Is Unbless'd, And The Ingredient Is A Devil.

Like A Red Morn That Ever Yet Betokened, Wreck To The Seaman, Tempest To The Field, Sorrow To The Shepherds, Woe Unto The Birds, Gusts And Foul Flaws To Herdmen And To Herds.