A Pair Of Star-crossed Lovers.

Plain And Not Honest Is Too Harsh A Style.

Give To A Gracious Message An Host Of Tongues, But Let Ill Tidings Tell Themselves When They Be Felt.

It Is Great To Do That Thing That Ends All Other Deeds, Which Shackles Accidents And Bolts Up Change.

Till Our King Henry Had Shook Hands With Death.

Here Feel We But The Penalty Of Adam, The Seasons' Difference, As The Icy Fang And Churlish Chiding Of The Winter's Wind, Which, When It Bites And Blows Upon My Body, Even Till I Shrink With Cold, I Smile.