What's His Offense? Groping For Trout In

My Age Is As A Lusty Winter, Frosty But Kindly.

Ay Me! For Aught That I Could Ever Read, Could Ever Hear By Tale Or History, The Course Of True Love Never Did Run Smooth. But, Either It Was Different In Blood,- Or Else It Stood Upon The Choice Of Friends,- Or, If There Were A Sympathy In Choice, War, Death, Or Sickness Did Lay Siege To It.

Oh, She Doth Teach The Torches To Burn Bright!

Is It Not Strange, That Sheep's Guts Should Hale Souls Out Of Men's Bodies!

For You And I Are Past Our Dancing Days.