Alas, I Am A Woman Friendless, Hopeless!

Roses Have Thorns, And Silver Fountains Mud; Clouds And Eclipses Stain Both Moon And Sun, And Loathsome Canker Lies In Sweetest Bud. All Men Make Faults.

If It Be True That Good Wine Needs No Bush, 'tis True That A Good Play Needs No Epilogue.

We Will Meet; And There We May Rehearse Most Obscenely And Courageously.

A Contract Of Eternal Bond Of Love, Confirm'd By Mutual Joinder Of Your Hands, Arrested By The Holy Close Of Lips, Strength'ned By The Interchangement Of Your Rings, And All The Ceremony Of This Compact Seal'd In My Function, By My Testimony.

A Happy Ending Cannot Come In The Middle Of The Story