Gold Were As Good As Twenty Orators.

Nature Hath Meal And Bran, Contempt And Grace.

Lord Polonius: What Do You Read, My Lord? Hamlet: Words, Words, Words. Lord Polonius: What Is The Matter, My Lord? Hamlet: Between Who? Lord Polonius: I Mean, The Matter That You Read, My Lord.

Even As One Heat Another Heat Expels, Or As One Nail By Strength Drives Out Another, So The Remembrance Of My Former Love Is By A Newer Object Quite Forgotten.

To Saucy Doubts And Fears.

Mean And Mighty, Rotting Together, Have One Dust.