The Sudden Hand Of Death Close Up

Foul Words Is But Foul Wind, And Foul Wind Is But Foul Breath, And Foul Breath Is Noisome; Therefore I Will Depart Unkissed.

Friendship's Full Of Dregs.

Praise Us As We Are Tasted, Allow Us As We Prove.

Speak, What Trade Art Thou? Why, Sir, A Carpenter. Where Is Thy Leather Apron And Thy Rule? What Does Thou With Thy Best Apparel On?

My Love Is Strengthen'd, Though More Weak In Seeming; I Love Not Less, Though Less The Show Appear: That Love Is Merchandised Whose Rich Esteeming The Owner's Tongue Doth Publish Every Where.