Let The Galled Jade Wince; Our Withers

Bid Me Discourse, I Will Enchant Thine Ear

What Should A Man Do But Be Merry? For Look You How Cheerfully My Mother Looks, And My Father Died Within's Two Hours.

No Deeper Wrinkles Yet? Hath Sorrow Struck So Many Blows Upon This Face Of Mine And Made No Deeper Wounds?

When I Said I Would Die A Bachelor, I Did Not Think I Should Live Till I Were Married.

Love Is . . . A Madness Most Discreet