What Art Thou Faustus, But A Man

Nothing Violent, Oft Have I Heard Tell, Can Be Permanent.

My Men Like Satyrs Grazing On The Lawns, / Shall With Their Goat-feet Dance An Antic Hay.

Who Hateth Me But For My Happiness? Or Who Is Honored Now But For His Wealth? Rather Had I, A Jew, Be Hated Thus, Than Pitied In A Christian Poverty.

Love Me Little, Love Me Long.

If We Say That We Have No Sin, We Deceive Ourselves, And There's No Truth In Us. Why Then Belike We Must Sin, And So Consequently Die. Ay, We Must Die An Everlasting Death.