I Like This Place And Could Willingly

I Profess Not Talking: Only This, Let Each Man Do His Best.

O! She Doth Teach The Torches To Burn Bright It Seems She Hangs Upon The Cheek Of Night Like A Rich Jewel In An Ethiop's Ear; Beauty Too Rich For Use, For Earth Too Dear. - Romeo -

I Am Bewitched With The Rogue's Company. If The Rascal Have Not Given Me Medicines To Make Me Love Him, I'll Be Hanged.

For In The Fatness Of These Pursy Times Virtue Itself Of Vice Must Pardon Beg.

I Am Not Mad; I Would To Heaven I Were! For Then, 'tis Like I Should Forget Myself; O, If I Could, What Grief Should I Forget!