For I Am Nothing If Not Critical.

Good Wombs Have Borne Bad Sons." -- (miranda, I:2)

If Music Be The Food Of Love, Play On, Give Me Excess Of It; That Surfeiting, The Appetite May Sicken, And So Die.

What Is Past Is Prologue.

O That A Lady, Of One Man Refused, Should Of Another Therefore Be Abused!

I Had Rather Be A Dog, And Bay The Moon, Than Such A Roman.