Let Me Be Boiled To Death With

As A Walled Town Is More Worthier Than A Village, So Is The Forehead Of A Married Man More Honorable Than The Bare Brow Of A Bachelor.

If Ever Thou Shalt Love, In The Sweet Pangs Of It Remember Me; For Such As I Am All True Lovers Are, Unstaid And Skittish In All Motions Else Save In The Constant Image Of The Creature That Is Beloved.

If Little Faults Proceeding On Distemper Shall Not Be Winked At, How Shall We Stretch Our Eye When Capital Crimes, Chewed, Swallowed, And Digested, Appear Before Us?

Experience Teacheth That Resolution Is A Sole Help In Need.

Hamlet: Is This A Prologue, Or The Posy Of A Ring? Ophelia: 'tis Brief, My Lord. Hamlet: As Woman's Love.