I Was A Coward On Instinct.

That Is My Home Of Love: If I Have Ranged, Like Him That Travels I Return Again, Just To The Time, Not With The Time Exchanged.

Let Me Embrace Thee, Sour Adversity, For Wise Men Say It Is The Wisest Course.

Thus Sometimes Hath The Brightest Day A Cloud; And After Summer Evermore Succeeds Barren Winter, With His Wrathful Nipping Cold: So Cares And Joys Abound, As Seasons Fleet.

And Caesar Shall Go Forth.

A Peevish Self-willed Harlotry It Is. *she’s A Stubborn Little Brat.*