Good Fortune Then! To Make Me Blest

These Violent Delights Have Violent Ends.

O Ceremony, Show Me But Thy Worth? What Is Thy Soul Of Adoration? Art Thou Aught Else But Place, Degree, And Form, Creating Awe And Fear In Other Men?

Out Of Her Favour, Where I Am In Love.

What Can Be Avoided Whose End Is Purposed By The Mighty Gods?

The Tongues Of Dying Men Enforce Attention Like Deep Harmony.