Hate Pollutes The Mind.

Death, That Hath Suck'd The Honey Of Thy Breath Hath Had No Power Yet Upon Thy Beauty.

Why, There's A Wench! Come On, And Kiss Me, Kate.

What Is A Man, If His Chief Good And Market Of His Time Be But To Sleep And Feed? A Beast, No More.

Base Men Being In Love Have Then A Nobility In Their Natures More Than Is Native To Them.

While He Was Drunk Asleep, Or In His Rage, Or In The Incestuous Pleasure Of His Bed.