The Hebrew Will Turn Christian; He Grows

Who Is It Can Read A Woman?

What, No More Ceremony? See, My Women! Against The Blown Rose May They Stop Their Nose That Kneel'd Unto The Buds.

Men At Some Time Are Masters Of Their Fates. The Fault, Dear Brutus, Is Not In Our Stars, But In Ourselves, That We Are Underlings.

I Feel Within Me A Peace Above All Earthly Dignities, A Still And Quiet Conscience.

O Romeo, Romeo! Wherefore Art Thou Romeo? Deny Thy Father And Refuse Thy Name; Or, If Thou Wilt Not, Be But Sworn My Love... 'tis But Thy Name That Is My Enemy; What's In A Name? That Which We Call A Rose By Any Other Name Would Smell As Sweet.