Nature Hath Framed Strange Fellows In Her

For This Relief Much Thanks. 'tis Bitter Cold, And I Am Sick At Heart.

Adieu! I Have Too Grieved A Heart To Take A Tedious Leave.

My Heart Is Turned To Stone; I Strike It, And It Hurts My Hand.

The Curse Of Marriage That We Can Call These Delicate Creatures Ours And Not Their Appetites!

One Sin, I Know, Another Doth Provoke. Murder's As Near To Lust As Flame To Smoke.