He Must Needs Go That The Devil

O, She's Warm! If This Be Magic, Let It Be An Art Lawful As Eating.

I Have A Kind Soul That Would Give You Thanks. And Knows Not How To Do It But With Tears.

They Say, The Tongues Of Dying Men Enforce Attention, Like Deep Harmony; Where Words Are Scarce, They're Seldom Spent In Vain; For They Breathe Truth, That Breathe Their Words In Pain.

What's To Come Is Still Unsure: In Delay There Lies No Plenty; Then Come Kiss Me, Sweet And Twenty, Youth's A Stuff Will Not Endure.

If Love Be Blind, It Best Agrees With Night