Every Fair From Fair Sometime Declines

There's An Old Saying That Applies To Me: You Can't Lose A Game If You Don't Play The Game. (act 1, Scene 4)

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

If It Be You That Stirs These Daughters' Hearts Against Their Father, Fool Me Not So Much To Bear It Tamely; Touch Me With Noble Anger, And Let Not Women's Weapons, Water Drops, Stain My Man's Cheeks.

Who Is Silvia What Is She, That All Our Swains Commend Her Holy, Fair, And Wise Is She.

Now, My Masters, Happy Man Be His Dole, Say I; Every Man To His Business.