How Much An Ill Word May Empoison

Making Night Hideous.

How Many Ages Hence Shall This Our Lofty Scene Be Acted Over In States Unborn And Accents Yet Unknown!

My Nature Is Subdued To What It Works In, Like The Dyer's Hand.

You Cannot Call It Love, For At Your Age The Heyday In The Blood Is Tame

To Go To Bed After Midnight Is To Go To Bed Betimes