Here Was A Caesar! When Comes Such

Do You Not Know I Am A Woman? When I Think, I Must Speak.

The Gods Are Just, And Of Our Pleasant Vices Make Instruments To Plague Us.

Though Age From Folly Could Not Give Me Freedom, It Does From Childishness.

Ring The Alarum-bell! Blow, Wind! Come, Wrack! At Least We'll Die With Harness On Our Back.

She Speaks Poniards, And Every Word Stabs: If Her Breath Were As Terrible As Her Terminations, There Were No Living Near Her; She Would Infect To The North Star. I Would Not Marry Her, Though She Were Endowed With All That Adam Bad Left Him Before He Transgressed.