Time Shall Unfold What Plaited Cunning Hides:

A Woman Moved Is Like A Fountain Troubled, Muddy, Ill-seeming, Thick, Bereft Of Beauty.

I'll Have No Husband, If You Be Not He.

I'll Be Supposed Upon A Book, His Face Is The Worst Thing About Him.

A High Hope For A Low Heaven: God Grant Us Patience!

Tell Me, Daughter Juliet, How Stands Your Dispositions To Be Married" It Is An Honor That I Dream Not Of