William Shakespeare

What our contempts do often hurl from us,
We wish it ours again.

What our contempts do often hurl from us,
We wish it ours again.

So full of artless jealousy is guilt, It spills itself in fearing to be spilt.

So full of artless jealousy is guilt, It spills itself in fearing to be spilt.

See, your guests approach.
Address yourself to entertain them sprightly,
And let's be red with mirth.

See, your guests approach.
Address yourself to entertain them sprightly,
And let's be red with mirth.

I would that I were low laid in my grave.
I am not worth this coil that's made for read more

I would that I were low laid in my grave.
I am not worth this coil that's made for me.

I will play the swan,
And die in music.

I will play the swan,
And die in music.