I Had As Lief Have Been Myself

Affection, Mistress Of Passion, Sways It To The Mood Of What It Likes Or Loathes.

His Worst Fault Is, He's Given To Prayer; He Is Something Peevish That Way.

Cease Thy Counsel, For Thy Words Fall Into My Ears As Priceless As Water Into A Seive.

Sweets Grown Common Lose Their Dear Delight.

O, Call Back Yesterday, Bid Time Return