Wrong Hath But Wrong, And Blame The

You Jig, You Amble, And You Lisp.

Ay Me! For Aught That I Could Ever Read, Could Ever Hear By Tale Or History, The Course Of True Love Never Did Run Smooth. But, Either It Was Different In Blood,- Or Else It Stood Upon The Choice Of Friends,- Or, If There Were A Sympathy In Choice, War, Death, Or Sickness Did Lay Siege To It.

A Peace Is Of The Nature Of A Conquest; For Then Both Parties Nobly Are Subdued, And Neither Party Loser.

Wisely, I Say, I Am A Bachelor.

And Some That Smile Have In Their Hearts, I Fear, Millions Of Mischiefs.