I Was Born Free As Caesar; So

Nature Her Custom Holds, Let Shame Say What It Will.

I Have A Kind Soul That Would Give You Thanks. And Knows Not How To Do It But With Tears.

Too Much Of Water Hast Thou, Poor Ophelia, And Therefore I Forbid My Tears.

He's Of The Colour Of The Nutmeg. And Of The Heat Of The Ginger.... He Is Pure Air And Fire; And The Dull Elements Of Earth And Water Never Appear In Him, But Only In Patient Stillness While His Rider Mounts Him; He Is Indeed A Horse, And All Other Jades You May Call Beasts.

Tis No Sin For A Man To Labor In His Vocation.