A Sympathy In Choice.

The Sense Of Death Is Most In Apprehension, And The Poor Beetle, That We Tread Upon, In Corporal Sufferance Finds A Pang As Great As When A Giant Dies.

Tis The Eye Of Childhood That Fears A Painted Devil.

For I Am He Am Born To Tame You, Kate; And Bring You From A Wild Kate To A Kate Conformable As Other Household Kates.

Suit The Action To The Word, The Word To The Action.

Like A Dull Actor Now, I Have Forgot My Part, And I Am Out, Even To A Full Disgrace.