Civil Dissension Is A Viperous Worm That

Sweet Flowers Are Slow And Weeds Make Haste.

Is He On His Horse? O Happy Horse, To Bear The Weight Of Antony!

By My Soul I Swear, There Is No Power In The Tongue Of Man To Alter Me.

Now The Melancholy God Protect Thee, And The Tailor Make Thy Garments Of Changeable Taffeta, For Thy Mind Is Opal.

I And My Bosom Must Debate Awhile, And Then I Would No Other Company.