The Heart Hath Treble Wrong

O My Good Lord, That Comfort Comes Too Late, 'tis Like A Pardon After Execution. That Gentle Physic, Given In Time, Had Cured Me; But Now I Am Past All Comforts Here But Prayers.

Had It Pleas'd Heaven To Try Me With Affliction * * * I Should Have Found In Some Place Of My Soul A Drop Of Patience.

Earth-treading Stars That Make Dark Heaven Light

O Romeo, Romeo, Wherefore Art Thou Romeo? Deny Thy Father Refuse Thy Name, Thou Art Thyself Thou Not A Montegue, What Is Montegue? Tis Nor Hand Nor Foot Nor Any Other Part Belonging To A Man What Is In A Name? That Which We Call A Rose By Any Other Name Would Smell As Sweet, So Romeo Would Were He Not Romeo Called Retain Such Dear Perfection To Which He Owes Without That Title, Romeo, Doth Thy Name! And For That Name Which Is No Part Of Thee, Take All Thyself.

Let Us Not Burden Our Remembrances With A Heaviness That's Gone.