Since Mine Own Doors Refuse To Entertain

Come, Seeling Night, Scarf Up The Tender Eye Of Pitiful Day, And With Thy Bloody And Invisible Hand Cancel And Tear To Pieces That Great Bond Which Keeps Me Pale. Light Thickens, And The Crow Makes Wing To Th' Rooky Wood. Good Things Of Day Begin To Droop And Drowse, While Night's Black Agents To Their Prey Do Rouse.

Swear Me, Kate, Like A Lady As Thou Art, A Good Mouth-filling Oath.

And All My Mother Came Into Mine Eyes And Gave Me Up To Tears.

Her Passions Are Made Of Nothing But The Finest Part Of Pure Love

As Good Luck Would Have It.