Where The Greater Malady Is Fixed, The

Death Makes No Conquest Of This Conqueror: For Now He Lives In Fame, Though Not In Life.

What My Tongue Dares Not That My Heart Shall Say

Wherefore Was I To This Keen Mockery Born? When At Your Hands Did I Deserve This Scorn? Is't Not Enough, Is't Not Enough, Young Man, That I Did Never, No, Nor Never Can, Deserve A Sweet Look From Demetrius' Eye, But You Must Flout My Insufficiency?

O Hell! To Choose Love With Another's Eye.

Still Constant Is A Wondrous Excellence.