The Stroke Of Death Is As A

I Wonder That You Will Still Be Talking. Nobody Marks You.

Yes, Faith; It Is My Cousin's Duty To Make Curtsy And Say 'father, As It Please You.' But Yet For All That, Cousin, Let Him Be A Handsome Fellow, Or Else Make Another Curtsy And Say 'father, As It Please Me.

Sorrow Breaks Seasons And Reposing Hours, Makes The Night Morning, And The Noontide Night.

This Senior-junior, Giant-dwarf, Dan Cupid; Regent Of Love-rhymes, Lord Of Folded Arms, The Anointed Sovereign Of Sighs And Groans, Liege Of All Loiterers And Malcontents.

O, She's Warm! If This Be Magic, Let It Be An Art Lawful As Eating.