O, I Have Suffered With Those That

The Deep Of Night Is Crept Upon Our Talk, And Nature Must Obey Necessity.

Thou Art Sad; Get Thee A Wife, Get Thee A Wife!

Nature Her Custom Holds, Let Shame Say What It Will.

Proper Deformity Shows Not In The Fiend So Horrid As In Woman.

Weep I Cannot; But My Heart Bleeds.