I'll Go Find A Shadow, And Sigh

In Love The Heavens Themselves Do Guide The State; Money Buys Lands, And Wives Are Sold By Fate.

O, Let Me Kiss That Hand! King Lear: Let Me Wipe It First; It Smells Of Mortality.

Ay, But Hearken, Sir; Though The Chameleon Love Can Feed On The Air, I Am One That Am Nourished By My Victuals, And Would Fain Have Meat.

They Have Been Grand-jurymen Since Before Noah Was A Sailor

The Art Of Our Necessities Is Strange That Can Make Vile Things Precious.