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Through The Forest Have I Gone. But Athenian Found I None, On Whose Eyes I Might Approve This Flower's Force In Stirring Love. Night And Silence.--who Is Here? Weeds Of Athens He Doth Wear: This Is He, My Master Said, Despised The Athenian Maid; And Here The Maiden, Sleeping Sound, On The Dank And Dirty Ground. Pretty Soul! She Durst Not Lie Near This Lack-love, This Kill-courtesy. Churl, Upon Thy Eyes I Throw All The Power This Charm Doth Owe. When Thou Wakest, Let Love Forbid Sleep His Seat On Thy Eyelid: So Awake When I Am Gone; For I Must Now To Oberon.

-William Shakespeare

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Through The Forest Have

William Shakespeare

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Through The Forest Have I Gone. But Athenian Found I None, On Whose Eyes I Might Approve This Flower's Force In Stirring Love. Night And Silence.--who Is Here? Weeds Of Athens He Doth Wear: This Is He, My Master Said, Despised The Athenian Maid; And Here The Maiden, Sleeping Sound, On The Dank And Dirty Ground. Pretty Soul! She Durst Not Lie Near This Lack-love, This Kill-courtesy. Churl, Upon Thy Eyes I Throw All The Power This Charm Doth Owe. When Thou Wakest, Let Love Forbid Sleep His Seat On Thy Eyelid: So Awake When I Am Gone; For I Must Now To Oberon.

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So Now I Have Confessed That He Is Thine, And I My Self Am Mortgaged To Thy Will, My Self I'll Forfeit, So That Other Mine, Thou Wilt Restore To Be My Comfort Still.

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Unbidden Guests Are Often Welcomest When They Are Gone.

This Day I Breathed First: Time Is Come Round, And Where I Did Begin There Shall I End; My Life Is Run His Compass.

Day, Night, Late, Early, At Home, Abroad, Alone, In Company, Waking Or Sleeping, Still My Care Hath Been To Have Her Match'd; And Having Now Provided A Gentleman Of Princely Parentage, Of Fair Demesnes, Youthful, And Nobly Train'd, Stuff'd, As They Say, With Honourable Parts, Proportion'd As One's Thought Would Wish A Man- And Then To Have A Wretched Puling Fool, A Whining Mammet, In Her Fortune's Tender, To Answer 'i'll Not Wed, I Cannot Love; I Am Too Young, I Pray You Pardon Me'!

All Things Are Ready, If Our Mind Be So.

Conscience Is A Blushing, Shamefaced Spirit Than Mutinies In A Man's Bosom; It Fills One Full Of Obstacles.

Nature's Tears Are Reason's Merriment.

I Understand Thy Kisses, And Thou Mine, And That's A Feeling Disputation.

Hanging And Wiving Goes By Destiny.

Merchant Of Venice

Cleopatra: If It Be Love Indeed, Tell Me How Much. Antony: There's Beggary In The Love That Can Be Reckoned. Cleopatra: I'll Set A Bourne How Far To Be Belov'd. Antony: Then Must Thou Needs Find Out New Heaven, New Earth.

There's Daggers In Men's Smiles.

I Had Rather Chop This Hand Off At A Blow, And With The Other Fling It At Thy Face.

A Noble Shalt Thou Have, And Present Pay; And Liquor Likewise Will I Give To Thee, And Friendship Shall Combine, And Brotherhood.

Give Me A Bowl Of Wine, In This I Bury All Unkindness.

Don't Judge A Man's Conscience By Looking At His Face Cause He May Have A Bad Heart.

I Have Very Poor And Unhappy Brains For Drinking.

The Sudden Hand Of Death Close Up Mine Eye!

When Death Doth Close His Tender Dying Eyes.

Beauty's A Doubtful Good, A Glass, A Flower, Lost, Faded, Broken, Dead Within An Hour; And Beauty, Blemish'd Once, For Ever's Lost, In Spite Of Physic, Painting, Pain, And Cost.

We Cannot Fight For Love, As Men May Do; We Shou'd Be Woo'd, And Were Not Made To Woo

Love Is The Greatest Of Dreams, Yet The Worst Of Nightmares.

Yet This My Comfort: When Your Words Are Done, My Woes End Likewise With The Evening Sun.

Hereafter, In A Better World Than This, I Shall Desire More Love And Knowledge Of You

Like A Man Made After Supper Of A Cheese-paring: When A' Was Naked, He Was, For All The World, Like A Forked Radish, With A Head Fantastically Carved Upon It With A Knife.

It Provokes The Desire, But It Takes Away The Performance

Lay Aside Life-harming Heaviness, And Entertain A Cheerful Disposition.

Thus Die I, Thus, Thus, Thus. Now Am I Dead, Now Am I Fled; My Soul Is In The Sky: Tongue, Lose Thy Light; Moon Take Thy Flight. Now Die, Die, Die, Die, Die.

And Worse I May Be Yet: The Worst Is Not So Long As We Can Say 'this Is The Worst.

But Here's The Joy: My Friend And I Are One, Sweet Flattery!

When Workmen Strive To Do Better Than Well, They Do Confound Their Skill In Covetousness.

Heaven Is Above All Yet; There Sits A Judge, That No King Can Corrupt.

You Are Not Wood, You Are Not Stones, But Men.

We Came Into The World Like Brother And Brother, And Now Let's Go Hand In Hand, Not One Before Another.

And What’s He Then That Says I Play The Villain?

He's A Soldier; And For One To Say A Soldier Lies, Is Stabbing.

Under The Colour Of Commending Him I Have Access My Own Love To Prefer; But Silvia Is Too Fair, Too True, Too Holy, To Be Corrupted With My Worthless Gifts.

He That Wants Money, Means, And Content Is Without Three Good Friends.

The Brain May Devise Laws For The Blood, But A Hot Temper Leaps O'er A Cold Decree.

And Keep You In The Rear Of Your Affection, Out Of The Shot And Danger Of Desire, The Chariest Maid Is Prodigal Enough If She Unmasks Her Beauty To The Moon.

The Summer's Flow'r Is To The Summer Sweet, Though To Itself It Only Live And Die' But If That Flow'r With Base Infection Meet, The Basest Weed Outbraves His Dignity: For Sweetest Things Turn Sourest By Their Deeds; Lilies That Fester Smell Far Worse Than Weeds.

Supposition All Our Lives Shall Be Stuck Full Of Eyes; For Treason Is But Trusted Like The Fox, Who, Ne'er So Tame, So Cherished And Locked Up, Will Have A Wild Trick Of His Ancestors.

There Is None But He Whose Being I Do Fear; And Under Him My Genius Is Rebuked, As It Is Said Mark Antony's Was By Caesar.

Advance Our Standards, Set Upon Our Foes; Our Ancient Word Of Courage, Fair Saint George, Inspire Us With The Spleen Of Fiery Dragons!

See The Minutes, How They Run, How Many Make The Hour Full Complete; How Many Hours Bring About The Day; How Many Days Will Finish Up The Year; How Many Years A Mortal Man May Live.

Sweets Grown Common Lose Their Dear Delight.

Tis Not A Year Or Two Shows Us A Man: They Are All But Stomachs, And We All But Food; They Eat Us Hungerly, And When They Are Full They Belch Us.

I'll Drown More Sailors Than The Mermaid Shall; I'll Slay More Gazers Than The Basalisks; I'll Play The Orator As Well As Nestor, Decieve More Slily That Ulysses Could, And Like A Sinon, Take Another Troy. I Can Add Colors To The Chameleon, Change Shapes With Proteus For Advantages And Set The Murderous Machiavel To School. Can I Do This, And Cannot Get A Crown? Tut! Were It Further Off, I'll Pluck It Down.

If I For My Opinion Bleed, Opinion Shall Be Surgeon To My Hurt, And Keep Me On The Side Where Still I Am.

His Heart As Far From Fraud As Heaven From Earth.

For Such Things As You, I Can Scarce Think There's Any, Ye're So Slight.

My Life, My Joy, My Food, My Ail The World!

Time Does Not Have The Same Appeal For Every One

With Mirth And Laughter Let Old Wrinkles Come. And Let My Liver Rather Heat With Wine, Than My Heart Cool With Mortifying Groans.

All His Successors Gone Before Him Have Done 't; And All His Ancestors That Come After Him May.

So Musical A Discord, Such Sweet Thunder.

O Sleep! O Gentle Sleep! Nature's Soft Nurse, How Have I Frighted Thee, That Thou No More Wilt Weigh My Eyelids Down And Steep My Senses In Forgetfulness? Why Rather, Sleep, Liest Thou In Smoky Cribs, Upon Uneasy Pallets Stretching Thee, And Hush'd With Buzzing Night-flies To Thy Slumber, Than In The Perfum'd Chambers Of The Great, Under The Canopies Of Costly State, And Lull'd With Sound Of Sweetest Melody?

The Bitter Clamor Of Two Eager Tongues.

Thy Tongue Makes Welsh As Sweet As Ditties Highly Penn'd, Sung By A Fair Queen In A Summer's Bower, With Ravishing Division, To Her Lute.

Words Pay No Debts, Give Her Deeds.

What We Determine We Often Break. Purpose Is But The Slave To Memory.

It Is In Pardoning That We Are Pardoned.

I Must Be Cruel, Only To Be Kind.

Well, Whiles I Am A Beggar, I Will Rail, And Say There Is No Sin But To Be Rich; And Being Rich, My Virtue Then Shall Be To Say There Is No Vice But Beggary

What Should A Man Do But Be Merry? For Look You How Cheerfully My Mother Looks, And My Father Died Within's Two Hours.

I Doubt Not Then But Innocence Shall Makefalse Accusation Blush, And Tyrannytremble At Patience.

So Our Virtues Lie In The Interpretation Of The Time

But That The Dread Of Something After Death, The Undiscover'd Country From Whose Bourn No Traveller Returns, Puzzles The Will And Makes Us Rather Bear Those Ills We Have Than Fly To Others That We Know Not Of?

And To The English Court Assemble Now, From Every Region, Apes Of Idleness!

To Be Direct And Honest Is Not Safe.

She Will Die If You Love Her Not, And She Will Die Ere She Might Make Her Love Known

To Fear The Worst Oft Cures The Worst.

Who Soars Too Near The Sun, With Golden Wings, Melts Them.

If One Good Deed In All My Life I Did, I Do Repent It From My Very Soul.

Could Beauty, My Lord, Have Better Commerce Than With Honesty?

If We Are True To Ourselves, We Can Not Be False To Anyone.

How Oft The Sight Of Means To Do Ill Deeds Makes Ill Deeds Done!

By My Troth, I Care Not; A Man Can Die But Once; We Owe God A Death And Let It Go Which Way It Will He That Dies This Year Is Quit For The Next

To Be In Love, Where Scorn Is Bought With Groans; Coy Looks, With Heart-sore Sighs; One Fading Moment's Mirth

Blest Are Those Whose Blood And Judgment Are So Well Commingled, That They Are Not A Pipe For Fortune's Finger To Sound What Stop She Please.

Her Virtues, Graced With External Gifts, Do Breed Love's Settled Passions In My Heart; And Like As Rigour Of Tempestuous Gusts Provokes The Mightiest Hulk Against The Tide, So Am I Driven By Breath Of Her Renown Either To Suffer Shipwreck Or Arrive Where I May Have Fruition Of Her Love.

I Do I Know Not What, And Fear To Find Mine Eye Too Great A Flatterer For My Mind. Fate, Show Thy Force. Ourselves We Do Not Owe. What Is Decreed Must Be; And Be This So.

I Did Never Know So Full A Voice Issue From So Empty A Heart: But The Saying Is True 'the Empty Vessel Makes The Greatest Sound'.

I'll Make Death Love Me; For I Will Contend Even With His Pestilent Scythe.

Well, Honor Is The Subject Of My Story.

My Long Sickness Of Health And Living Now Begins To Mend, And Nothing Brings Me All Things.

Retire Me To My Milan, Where Every Third Thought Shall Be My Grave.

One Touch Of Nature Makes The Whole World Kin.

I'll Forbear; And Am Fallen Out With My More Headier Will To Take The Indisposed And Sickly Fit For The Sound Man.

Because I Cannot Flatter And Look Fair, Smile In Men's Faces, Smooth, Deceive, And Cog, Duck With French Nods And Apish Courtesy, I Must Be Held A Rancorous Enemy.

My Thoughts Are Whirled Like A Potter's Wheel; I Know Not Where I Am Nor What I Do.

There's No More Faith In Thee Than In A Stewed Prune.

Vanity Keeps Persons In Favor With Themselves Who Are Out Of Favor With All Others.

There's Nothing Ill Can Dwell In Such A Temple. If The Ill Spirit Have So Fair A House, Good Things Will Strive To Dwell With't

Tam: What Begg’st Thou Then? Fond Woman, Let Me Go. Lav: ’tis Present Death I Beg; And One Thing More That Womanhood Denies My Tongue To Tell. O! Keep Me From Their Worse Than Killing Lust, And Tumble Me Into Some Loathsome Pit, Where Never Man’s Eye May Behold My Body: Do This, And Be A Charitable Murderer. Tam: So Should I Rob My Sweet Sons Of Their Fee: No, Let Them Satisfy Their Lust On Thee. Dem: Away! For Thou Hast Stay’d Us Here Too Long. Lav: No Grace! No Womanhood! Ah, Beastly Creature, The Blot And Enemy To Our General Name. Confusion Fall—

Dissembling Harlot, Thou Art False In All!

Fortune Reigns In Gifts Of The World.

For Sweetest Things Turn Sourest By Their Deeds; Lillies That Fester Smell Far Worse Than Weeds.

Which Means She To Deceive, Father Or Mother?

He Receives Comfort Like Cold Porridge.

And Simple Truth Miscalled Simplicity

Faith, I Have Been A Truant In The Law And Never Yet Could Frame My Will To It, And Therefore Frame The Law Unto My Will.

So Sweet Was Ne'er So Fatal. I Must Weep. But They Are Creul Tears. This Sorrow's Heavenly; It Strikes Where It Doth Love.

Tell Them, That, To Ease Them Of Their Griefs, Their Fear Of Hostile Strokes, Their Aches, Losses, Their Pangs Of Love, With Other Incident Throes That Nature's Fragile Vessel Doth Sustain In Life's Uncertain Voyage, I Will Some Kindness Do Them.

Alas, Their Love May Be Call'd Appetite. No Motion Of The Liver, But The Palate

To Mingle Friendship Far Is Mingling Bloods.

Religious Canons, Civil Laws, Are Cruel; Then What Should War Be?

Demetrius: Villain, What Hast Thou Done? Aaron: That Which Thou Canst Not Undo. Chiron: Thou Hast Undone Our Mother. Aaron: Villain, I Have Done Thy Mother.

Pray, Do Not Mock Me. I Am A Very Foolish Fond Old Man, Fourscore And Upward, Not An Hour More Nor Less; And, To Deal Plainly, I Fear I Am Not In My Perfect Mind.

He Was Ever Precise In Promise-keeping.

Promises That Are Broken

What Is Your Substance, Whereof Are You Made, That Millions Of Strange Shadows On You Tend? Since Everyone Hath Every One, One Shade, And You, But One, Can Every Shadow Lend. Describe Adonis, And The Counterfeit Is Poorly Imitated After You. On Helen’s Cheek All Art Of Beauty Set, And You In Grecian Tires Are Painted New. Speak Of The Spring And Foison Of The Year; The One Doth Shadow Of Your Beauty Show, The Other As Your Bounty Doth Appear, And You In Every Blessèd Shape We Know. In All External Grace You Have Some Part, But You Like None, None You, For Constant Heart.

Thank Me No Thankings, Nor Proud Me No Prouds.

For Here, I Hope, Begins Our Lasting Joy.

For My Part, If A Lie May Do Thee Grace, I'll Gild It With The Happiest Terms I Have.

Faint Heart Never Won Fair Maid.

Passion Lends Them Power, Time Means To Meet, Tempering Extremities With Extremes Sweet.

Is Man No More Than This? Consider Him Well. Thou Ow'st The Worm No Silk, The Beast No Hide, The Sheep No Wool, The Cat No Perfume. Here's Three On's Are Sophisticated. Thou Art The Thing Itself; Unaccommodated Man Is No More Than Such A Poor, Bare, Forked Animal As Thou Art.

Flout 'em, And Scout 'em; And Scout 'em, And Flout 'em; / Thought Is Free.

She Is Mine Own, And I As Rich In Having Such A Jewel As Twenty Seas, If All Their Sand Were Pearl, The Water Nectar, And The Rocks Pure Gold.

Nice Customs Curtsy To Great Kings.

Men's Evil Manners Live In Brass; Their Virtues We Write In Water.

And Therefore, — Since I Cannot Prove A Lover, To Entertain These Fair Well-spoken Days, — I Am Determined To Prove A Villain, And Hate The Idle Pleasures Of These Days.

The Fringed Curtains Of Thine Eye Advance, And Say What Thou Seest Yond.

Gonzalo From Tempest

A Wretched Soul, Bruised With Adversity, We Bid Be Quiet When We Hear It Cry; But Were We Burdened With Light Weight Of Pain, As Much Or More We Should Ourselves Complain.

These Times Of Woe Afford No Time To Woo.

Children Wish Fathers Looked But With Their Eyes; Fathers That Children With Their Judgment Looked; And Either May Be Wrong.

Rumour Is A Pipe Blown By Surmises, Jealousies, Conjectures And Of So Easy And So Plain A Stop That The Blunt Monster With Uncounted Heads, The Still-discordant Wavering Multitude, Can Play Upon It.

I Stand For Judgment: Answer: Shall I Have It?

The Robbed That Smiles, Steals Something From The Thief.

Either Our History Shall With Full Mouth Speak Freely Of Our Acts, Or Else Our Grave, Like Turkish Mute, Shall Have A Tongueless Mouth, Not Worshipped With A Waxen Epitaph.

I Am One, My Liege, Whom The Vile Blows And Buffets Of The World Have So Incensed That I Am Reckless What I Do To Spite The World.

O, How I Faint When I Of You Do Write, Knowing A Better Spirit Doth Use Your Name, And In The Praise Thereof Spends All His Might To Make Me Tongue-tied Speaking Of Your Fame.

Give Me A Bowl Of Wine. I Have Not That Alacrity Of Spirit Nor Cheer Of Mind That I Was Wont To Have.

We Are Ready To Try Our Fortunes To The Last Man.

The Blood Weeps From My Heart When I Do Shape, In Forms Imaginary, Th' Unguided Days And Rotten Times That You Shall Look Upon When I Am Sleeping With My Ancestors.

O That My Tongue Were In The Thunder's Mouth! Then With Passion Would I Shake The World.

In Nature There's No Blemish But The Mind. None Can Be Called Deformed But The Unkind.

Tell Me Where Is Fancy Bred, Or In The Heart, Or In The Head? How Begot, How Nourished? Reply, Reply. It Is Engend'red In The Eyes, With Gazing Fed, And Fancy Dies In The Cradle Where It Lies.

Virtue Is Chok'd With Foul Ambition

In Jest, There Is Truth.

Who Finds The Heifer Dead And Bleeding Fresh And Sees Fast-by A Butcher With An Axe, But Will Suspect 'twas He That Made The Slaughter?

But As The Unthought-on Accident Is Guilty To What We Wildly Do, So We Profess Ourselves To Be The Slaves Of Chance, And Flies Of Every Wind That Blows.

Oh, I Am Fortune's Fool!

Fie, Fie, How Frantically I Square My Talk!

Leave Us To Our Free Election.

I Hate The Murderer, Love Him Murdered.

Ten Masts Make Not The Altitude Which Thou Hast Perpendicularly Fell. Thy Life's A Miracle.

Dispute Not With Her: She Is Lunatic.

Nature Does Require Her Times Of Preservation.

What A Piece Of Work Is A Man, How Noble In Reason, How Infinite In Faculties, In Form And Moving How Express And Admirable, In Action How Like An Angel, In Apprehension How Like A God.

Love Is A Smoke Made With The Fume Of Sighs.

... And Death Unloads Thee.

Thine Eyes I Love, And They As Pitying Me, Knowing Thy Heart Torment Me With Disdain, Have Put On Black, And Loving Mourners Be, Looking With Pretty Ruth Upon My Pain.

A Woman Is A Dish For The Gods, If The Devil Dress Her Not.

What, No More Ceremony? See, My Women! Against The Blown Rose May They Stop Their Nose That Kneel'd Unto The Buds.

For A Quart Of Ale Is A Dish For A King.

A Goodly Portly Man, I' Faith, And A Corpulent; Of A Cheerful Look, A Pleasing Eye, And A Most Noble Carriage; And, As I Think, His Age Some Fifty, Or, By'r Lady, Inclining To Threescore; And Now I Remember Me, His Name Is Falstaff.

A Beggar's Book Outworths A Noble's Blood.

I, Thus Neglecting Worldly Ends, All Dedicated To Closeness And The Bettering Of My Mind.

Headstrong Liberty Is Lashed With Woe.

I Humbly Do Beseech Of Your Pardon, For Too Much Loving You

Give It An Understanding, But No Tongue.

And Oftentimes, To Win Us To Our Harm, The Instruments Of Darkness Tell Us Truths, Win Us With Honest Trifles, To Betray's In Deepest Consequence

Yet Mark'd I Where The Bolt Of Cupid Fell: It Fell Upon A Little Western Flower, Before Milk-white, Now Purple With Love's Wound, And Maidens Call It Love-in-idleness.

When Lenity And Cruelty Play For A Kingdom, The Gentler Gamester Is The Soonest Winner

...too Much Sadness Hath Congealed Your Blood,and Melancholy Is The Nurse Of Frenzy.

Well, I Must Be Patient; There Is No Fettering Of Authority.

So They Loved As Love In Twain Had The Essence But In One; Two Distinct, Divisions None.

A Plague Of Sighing And Grief! It Blows A Man Up Like A Bladder.

Of All The Fair Resort Of Gentlemen That Every Day With Parle Encounter Me, In Thy Opinion Which Is Worthiest Love?

Who Can Be Patient In Extremes?

Before Thee Stands This Fair Hesperides, With Golden Fruit, But Dangerous To Be Touched; For Death-like Dragons Here Affright Thee Hard.

Omission To Do What Is Necessary Seals A Commission To A Blank Of Danger; And Danger, Like An Ague, Subtly Taints Even Then When We Sit Idly In The Sun.

Haste Is Needful In A Desperate Case.

He That Is Thy Friend Indeed, He Will Help You In Your Need.

To Fear The Foe, Since Fear Oppresseth Strength, Gives, In Your Weakness, Strength Unto Your Foe, And So Your Follies Fight Against Yourself. Fear, And Be Slain--so Worse Can Come To Fight; And Fight And Die Is Death Destroying Death, Where Fearing Dying Pays Death Servile Breath.

My Cousin's A Fool, And Thou Art Another.

They May Seize On The White Wonder Of Dear Juliet's Hand And Steal Immortal Blessing From Her Lips, Who, Even In Pure And Vestal Modesty, Still Blush, As Thinking Their Own Kisses Sin.

It Is Not, Nor It Cannot, Come To Good, But Break, My Heart, For I Must Hold My Tongue.

Hamlet And Ophelia

Virtuous And Fair, Royal And Gracious.

It Is The Very Error Of The Moon; She Comes More Nearer Earth Than She Was Wont, And Makes Men Mad.

The Liquid Drops Of Tears That You Have Shed Shall Come Again, Transform'd To Orient Pearl, Advantaging Their Loan With Interest Of Ten Times Double Gain Of Happiness.

Then Love-devouring Death Do What He Dare.

'tis Not To Make Me Jealous To Say My Wife Is Fair, Feeds Well, Loves Company, Is Free Of Speech, Sings, Plays, And Dances Well; Where Virtue Is, These Are More Virtuous.

Nothing Routs Us But The Villainy Of Our Fears.

The Thane Of Cawdor Lives, A Prosperous Gentleman; And To Be King Stands Not Within The Prospect Of Belief, No More Than To Be Cawdor.

Good Morrow, 'tis Saint Valentine's Day, All In The Morn Betime, And I A Maid At Your Window, To Be Your Valentine.

Glory Is Like A Circle In The Water, Which Never Ceaseth To Enlarge Itself, Till, By Broad Spreading, It Disperse To Naught.

Why, There's A Wench! Come On, And Kiss Me, Kate.

O Hell! To Choose Love With Another's Eye.

I Have Not Slept. Between The Acting Of A Dreadful Thing And The First Motion, All The Interim Is Like A Phantasma, Or A Hideous Dream: The Genius And The Mortal Instruments Are Then In Council; And The State Of Man, Like To A Little Kingdom, Suffers Then The Nature Of An Insurrection.

So Shows A Snowy Dove Trooping With Crows As Yonder Lady O'er Her Fellows Shows.

Set Your Heart At Rest. The Fairyland Buys Not The Child Of Me.

We Must Follow, Not Force Providence.

They Told Me I Was Everything. 'tis A Lie, I Am Not Ague-proof.

I Will Praise Any Man That Will Praise Me.

For Man Is A Giddy Thing, And This Is My Conclusion.

O, How Full Of Briers Is This Working-day World!

Guiltiness Will Speak, Though Tongues Were Out Of Use

The Thing Of Courage As Rous'd With Rage Doth Sympathise, And, With An Accent Tun'd In Self-same Key, Retorts To Chiding Fortune.

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