I Almost Die For Food, And Let

My Purpose Is, Indeed, A Horse Of That Color.

It Is Not Politic In The Commonwealth Of Nature To Preserve Virginity. Loss Of Virginity Is Rational Increase, And There Was Never Virgin Got Till Virginity Was First Lost. That You Were Made Of Is Metal To Make Virgins. Virginity, By Being Once Lost, May Be Ten Times Found: By Being Ever Kept, It Is Ever Lost. ’tis Too Cold A Companion: Away With ’t!

Patch Grief With Proverbs.

What, All So Soon Asleep! I Wish Mine Eyes Would, With Themselves, Shut Up My Thoughts.

Poor Desdemona! I Am Glad Thy Father's Dead. Thy Match Was Mortal To Him, And Pure Grief Shore His Old Thread In Twain.