A Man Loves The Meat In His

Tis Safter To Be That Which We Destroy Than By Destruction Dwell In Doubtful Joy.

Base Is The Slave That Pays.

Suffer Love; A Good Epithet! I Do Suffer Love, Indeed, For I Love Thee Against My Will.

A College Of Wit-crackers Cannot Flout Me Out Of My Humor. Dost Thou Think I Care For A Satire Or An Epigram?

The Eyes Are The Window To Your Soul