For Man Is A Giddy Thing, And

There Is A Willow Grows Aslant A Brook, That Shows His Hoar Leaves In The Glassy Stream; There With Fantastic Garlands Did She Come Of Crow-flowers, Nettles, Daisies, And Long Purples That Liberal Shepherds Give A Grosser Name, But Our Cold Maids Do Dead Men's Fingers Call Them: There, On The Pendent Boughs Her Coronet Weeds Clambering To Hang, An Envious Sliver Broke; When Down Her Weedy Trophies And Herself Fell In The Weeping Brook.

Assure Thee, If I Do Vow A Friendship, I'll Perform It To The Last Article." --othello, Act Iii, Scene Iii

Speak To Me As To Thy Thinkings, As Thou Dost Ruminate, And Give Thy Worst Of Thoughts The Worst Of Words.

Though Men Can Cover Crimes With Bold, Stern Looks, Poor Women's Faces Are Their Own Faults' Books.

Use Almost Can Change The Stamp Of Nature.