I Cannot, Nor I Will Not Hold

Presume Not That I Am The Thing I Was.

So Will I Turn Her Virtue Into Pitch, And Out Of Her Own Goodness Make The Net That Shall Enmesh Them All.

Comets Importing Change Of Times And States, Brandish Your Crystal Tresses In The Sky And With Them Scourge The Bad Revolting Stars.

All Things That Are, Are With More Spirit Chased Than Enjoyed.

The Clamorous Owl That Nightly Hoots And Wonders At Our Quaint Spirits.