Every True Man's Apparel Fits Your Thief.

There's Husbandry In Heaven; Their Candles Are All Out.

Foul Fiend Of France And Hag Of All Despite, Encompassed With Thy Lustful Paramours, Becomes It Thee To Taunt His Valiant Age And Twit With Cowardice A Man Half Dead?

But O, How Bitter A Thing It Is To Look Into Happiness Through Another Man's Eyes.

I Have Lov'd Her Ever Since I Saw Her; And Still I See Her Beautiful

How Now, Wit! Whither Wander You?