We Were Not Born To Sue, But

That, Sir, Which Serves And Seeks For Gain, And Follows But For Form, Will Pack, When It Begins To Rain, And Leave Thee In A Storm.

Friends, Romans, Countrymen, Lend Me Your Ears; I Come To Bury Caesar, Not To Praise Him.

Every Cloud Engenders Not A Storm.

She's Gone. I Am Abused, And My Relief Must Be To Loathe Her.

Sigh No More, Ladies, Sigh No More, Men Were Deceivers Ever,- One Foot In Sea And One On Shore, To One Thing Constant Never.