Kindness Nobler Ever Than Revenge.

Feed On Her Damask Cheek: She Pined In Thought, And With A Green And Yellow Melancholy She Sat Like Patience On A Monument, Smiling At Grief

Determine On Some Course More Than A Wild Exposure To Each Chance.

How Soar Sweet Music Is, When Time Is Broke, And No Proportion Kept!

Dost Thou Love Hawking? Thou Hast Hawks Will Soar Above The Morning Lark.

Hamlet: Is This A Prologue, Or The Posy Of A Ring? Ophelia: 'tis Brief, My Lord. Hamlet: As Woman's Love.