Silence Is The Perfect Herald Of Joy.

O Me, You Juggler, You Canker-blossom, You Thief Of Love!

Why, Friends, You Go To Do You Know Not What: Wherein Hath Caesar Thus Deserved Your Loves? Alas, You Know Not: I Must Tell You Then: You Have Forgot The Will I Told You Of. . . . . Here Is The Will, And Under Caesar's Seal. To Every Roman Citizen He Gives, To Every Several Man, Seventy-five Drachmas. . . . . Moreover, He Hath Left You All His Walks, His Private Arbours And New-planted Orchards, On This Side Tiber; He Hath Left Them You, And To Your Heirs For Ever, Common Pleasures, To Walk Abroad, And Recreate Yourselves. Here Was A Caesar! When Comes Such Another?

Hot Blood Begets Hot Thoughts, And Hot Thoughts Beget Hot Deeds, And Hot Deeds Is Love.

How Easy It Is For The Proper-false In Woman's Waxen Hearts To Set Their Forms!

Delay Leads Impotent And Snail-paced Beggary.