Let Me Not To The Marriage Of

A Sentence Is But A Cheveril Glove To A Good Wit; How Quickly The Wrong Side May Be Turned Outward!

Captain Of Our Fairy Band, Helena Is Here At Hand, And The Youth, Mistook By Me, Pleading For A Lover's Fee. Shall We Their Fond Pageant See? Lord, What Fools These Mortals Be!

I Do Not Hate A Proud Man, As I Do Hate The Engendering Of Toads.

I Have Almost Forgotten The Taste Of Fears: The Time Has Been, My Senses Would Have Cool’d To Hear A Night-shriek; And My Fell Of Hair Would At A Dismal Treatise Rouse And Stir As Life Were In’t: I Have Supt Full With Horrors; Direness, Familiar To My Slaughterous Thoughts, Cannot Once Start Me.

Tis Ever Common That Men Are Merriest When They Are From Home.