They Were Devils Incarnate.

Feed On Her Damask Cheek: She Pined In Thought, And With A Green And Yellow Melancholy She Sat Like Patience On A Monument, Smiling At Grief

Keep Up Your Bright Swords, For The Dew Will Rust Them.

Lay Her I' The Earth: And From Her Fair And Unpolluted Flesh May Violets Spring! I Tell Thee, Churlish Priest, A Ministering Angel Shall My Sister Be, When Thou Liest Howling. Hamlet. What, The Fair Ophelia! Queen Gertrude. Sweets To The Sweet: Farewell!

To Be Merry Best Becomes You; For, Out Of Question, You Were Born In A Merry Hour.

When You Depart From Me Sorrow Abides And Happiness Takes His Leave.