You Have Witchcraft In Your Lips

The Old Folk, Time's Doting Chronicles.

No Evil Lost Is Wailed When It Is Gone.

Against Self-slaughter There Is A Prohibition So Divine That Cravens My Weak Hand.

Ambition's Debt Is Paid.

Romeo: Courage, Man; The Hurt Cannot Be Much. Mercutio: No, 'tis Not So Deep As A Well, Nor So Wide As A Church-door; But 'tis Enough, 'twill Serve. Ask For Me Tomorrow, And You Shall Find Me A Grave Man.