Forget, Forgive; Conclude, And Be Agreed.

In A False Quarrel There Is No True Valor.

The Tartness Of His Face Sours Ripe Grapes.

What Freezings I Have Felt, What Dark Days Seen, What Old December's Bareness Everywhere!

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

The Ostentation Of Our Love, Which, Left Unshown, Is Often Left Unloved.