Though This Be Madness, Yet There Is

Tis Mad Idolatry To Make The Service Greater Than The God.

I Will Be Brief. Your Noble Son Is Mad.

To Be In Love, Where Scorn Is Bought With Groans; Coy Looks, With Heart-sore Sighs; One Fading Moment's Mirth

Don't Waste Your Love On Somebody, Who Doesn't Value It.

Let Us Kill All Lawyers