We Cannot Fight For Love, As Men

The Best Quarrels, In The Heat, Are Cursed By Those That Feel Their Sharpness.

Oft Have I Heard That Grief Softens The Mind And Makes It Fearful And Degenerate.

This Liberty Is All That I Request.

How Art Thou Out Of Breath When Thou Hast Breath To Say To Me That Thou Art Out Of Breath?

My Father Compounded With My Mother Under The Dragon's Tail, And My Nativity Was Under Ursa Major, So That It Follows, I Am Roughand Lecherous. Tut, I Should Have Been That I Am, Had The Maidenliest Star In The Firmament Twinkled On My Bastardizing.