Within the book and volume of thy brain.
I am not of that feather, to shake off my friend when he must need me
Do not swear by the moon, for she changes constantly. Then your love would also change.
Yea from the table of my memory I'll wipe away all trivial fond records.
So, good night unto you all. Give me your hands, if we be friends, and Robin shall restore amends.
A happy ending cannot come in the middle of the story