Women Speak Two Languages - One Of

The Gallantry Of His Grief Did Put Me Into A Towering Passion.

I Had Rather Have A Fool To Make Me Merry Than Experience To Make Me Sad And To Travel For It Too!

How Much More Doth Beauty Beauteous Seem By That Sweet Ornament Which Truth Doth Give!

That You Were Once Unkind Befriends Me Now, And For That Sorrow, Which I Then Did Feel, Needs Must I Under My Transgression Bow, Unless My Nerves Were Brass Or Hammered Steel.

These Violent Delights Have Violent Ends.