Thus die I, thus, thus, thus. Now am I dead, Now am I fled; My soul is in the sky: Tongue, lose thy light; Moon take thy flight. Now die, die, die, die, die.

If to do were as easy as to know what were good to do, chapels had been churches, and poor men's cottage princes' palaces.

For a noble heart, the most precious gift becomes poor, when the giver stops loving.

My only love sprung from my only hate.

Sycorax has grown into a hoop

Hear the meaning within the word.

We see which way the stream of time doth run.