We Will Draw The Curtain And Show

Things In Motion Sooner Catch The Eye Than What Not Stirs.

True, I Talk Of Dreams, Which Are The Children Of An Idle Brain, Begot Of Nothing But Vain Fantasy, Which Is As Thin Of Substance As The Air, And More Inconstant Than The Wind, Who Woos Even Now The Frozen Bosom Of The North, And, Being Anger'd, Puffs Away From Thence, Turning His Side To The Dew-dropping South.

I Cannot Be A Man With Wishing, Therefore I Will Die A Woman With Grieving.

Take But Degree Away, Untune That String, And Hark, What Discord Follows!

Divers Philosophers Hold That The Lips Is Parcel Of The Mouth.