Ask God For Temp'rance. That's Th' Appliance

If Love Be Blind, It Best Agrees With Night

To Business That We Love We Rise Betime, And Go To't With Delight.

Do All Men Kill The Things They Do Not Love?

Titus Andronicus, My Lord The Emperor Sends Thee This Word, That, If Thou Love Thy Sons, Let Marcus, Lucius, Or Thyself, Old Titus, Or Any One Of You, Chop Off Your Hand And Send It To The King: He For The Same Will Send Thee Hither Both Thy Sons Alive, And That Shall Be The Ransom For Their Fault.

O, What Damned Minutes Tells He O'er Who Dotes, Yet Doubts, Suspects, Yet Fondly Loves!