Then With The Losers Let It Sympathize,

Make Passionate My Sense Of Hearing.

O Heaven! Were Man, But Constant, He Were Perfect.

A Woman That Is Like A German Clock, Still A-repairing, Ever Out Of Frame, And Never Going Aright, Being A Watch, But Being Watched That It May Still Go Right!

What Time Hath Scanted Men In Hair, He Hath Given Them In Wit.

Honest Plain Words Best Pierce The Ear Of Grief.