A Victory Is Twice Itself When The

The Violence Of Either Grief Or Joy, Their Own Enactures With Themselves Destroy.

Bassanio: Do All Men Kill All The Things They Do Not Love? Shylock: Hates Any Man The Thing He Would Not Kill? Bassanio: Every Offence Is Not A Hate At First.

O Thou That Dost Inhabit In My Breast, Leave Not The Mansion So Long Tenantless; Lest, Growing Ruinous, The Building Fall And Leave No Memory Of What It Was!

Heaven Would That She These Gifts Should Have, And I To Live And Die Her Slave.

Prosperity's The Very Bond Of Love, Whose Fresh Complexion And Whose Heart Together Affliction Alters.