As Many Arrows, Loosed Several Ways, Come

To Weep Is To Make Less The Depth Of Grief.

Alas, Their Love May Be Call'd Appetite. No Motion Of The Liver, But The Palate

I Did Never Know So Full A Voice Issue From So Empty A Heart: But The Saying Is True 'the Empty Vessel Makes The Greatest Sound'.

Love, Which Teacheth Me That Thou And I Am One

Brutus, I Do Observe You Now Of Late: I Have Not From Your Eyes That Gentleness And Show Of Love As I Was Wont To Have: You Bear Too Stubborn And Too Strange A Hand Over Your Friend That Loves You. Poor Brutus, With Himself At War, Forgets The Shows Of Love To Other Men.