The Path Is Smooth That Leadeth On

What's Done Cannot Be Undone. To Bed, To Bed, To Bed.

O, Here Will I Set Up My Everlasting Rest And Shake The Yoke Of Inauspicious Stars From The World-wearied Flesh

There Is A History In All Men's Lives, Figuring The Nature Of The Times Deceased, The Which Observed, A Man May Prophesy, With A Near Aim, Of The Main Chance Of Things As Yet Not Come To Life, Which In Their Seeds And Weak Beginnings Lie Intreasured.

For Love, Thou Know'st, Is Full Of Jealousy

Conceit In Weakest Bodies Works The Strongest.