Many That Are Not Mad Have, Sure,

There Is No Sure Foundation Set On Blood, No Certain Life Achieved By Others' Death.

Wise Men Ne'er Sit And Wail Their Woes, But Presently Prevent The Ways To Wail.

Finish, Good Lady; The Bright Day Is Done, And We Are For The Dark.

O No, Thy Love Though Much, Is Not So Great, It Is My Love That Keeps Mine Eye Awake, Mine Own True Love That Doth My Rest Defeat, To Play The Watchman Ever For Thy Sake. For Thee Watch I, Whilst Thou Dost Wake Elsewhere, From Me Far Off, With Others All Too Near.

Chewing The Food Of Sweet And Bitter Fancy.