He Kills Her In Her Own Humor.

I Beseech You, Wrest Once The Law To Your Authority: To Do A Great Right, Do A Little Wrong.

Dost Thou Love Hawking? Thou Hast Hawks Will Soar Above The Morning Lark.

To Show An Unfelt Sorrow Is An Office Which The False Man Does Easy.

By Medicine Life May Be Prolonged, Yet Death Will Seize The Doctor Too.

How Art Thou Out Of Breath When Thou Hast Breath To Say To Me That Thou Art Out Of Breath?