How Now, Wit! Whither Wander You?

Vile Worm, Thou Wast O'erlook'd Even In Thy Birth.

If I May Trust The Flattering Truth Of Sleep, My Dreams Presage Some Joyful News At Hand. My Bosom's Lord Sits Lightly In His Throne, And All This Day An Unaccustomed Spirit Lifts Me Above The Ground With Cheerful Thoughts.

Equality Of Two Domestic Powers Breeds Scrupulous Faction.

Men's Eyes Were Made To Look, And Let Them Gaze. I Will Not Budge For No Man's Pleasure.

If Reasons Were As Plentiful As Blackberries, I Would Give No Man A Reason Upon Compulsion.