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A Man In All The World's New Fashion Planted, That Hath A Mint Of Phrases In His Brain.

I Do Desire We May Be Better Strangers.

The Eye Of Man Hath Not Heard, The Ear Of Man Hath Not Seen, Man's Hand Is Not Able To Taste, His Tongue To Conceive, Nor His Heart To Report, What My Dream Was.

Frailty, Thy Name Is Woman!

We Will Have Rings And Things And Fine Array