Heaven Give You Many, Many Merry Days.

This Rough Magic I Here Abjure And When I Have Required Some Heavenly Music, Which Even Now I Do, To Work Mine End Upon Their Senses That This Airy Charm Is For, I'll Break My Staff, Bury It Certain Fathoms In The Earth, And Deeper Than Did Ever Plummet Sound, I'll Drown My Book.

I Like Not Fair Terms And A Villain's Mind.

There Lives Within The Very Flame Of Love A Kind Of Wick Or Snuff That Will Abate It.

Mend When Thou Canst; Be Better At Thy Leisure.

Knit Your Hearts With An Unslipping Knot.