What A Pretty Thing Man Is When

An Overflow Of Good Converts To Bad.

How Slow This Old Moon Wanes! She Lingers My Desires, Like To A Stepdame, Or A Dowager, Long Withering Out A Young Man's Revenue.

Pray You Now, Forget And Forgive.

And Thou, All-shaking Thunder, Strike Flat The Thick Rotundity O' The World! Crack Nature's Moulds, All Germens Spill At Once That Makes Ingrateful Man!

Things Without All Remedy Should Be Without Regard: What's Done Is Done.