No, I Will Be The Pattern Of

Had I But Died An Hour Before This Chance, I Had Liv'd A Blessed Time; For, From This Instant, There's Nothing Serious In Mortality: All Is But Toys; Renown, And Grace Is Dead; The Wine Of Life Is Drawn, And The Mere Lees Is Left This Vault To Brag Of.

Summer's Lease Hath All Too Short A Date.

The Ostentation Of Our Love, Which, Left Unshown, Is Often Left Unloved.

Gratiano Speaks An Infinite Deal Of Nothing, More Than Any Man In All Venice. His Reasons Are As Two Grains Of Wheat Hid In Two Bushels Of Chaff: You Shall Seek All Day Ere You Find Them, And When You Have Them, They Are Not Worth The Search.

I May Command Where I Adore.