Honor's Thought Reigns Solely In The Breast

The Why Is Plain As Way To Parish Church: He That A Fool Doth Very Wisely Hit Doth Very Foolishly, Although He Smart, Not To Seem Senseless Of The Bob; If Not, The Wise Man's Folly Is Anatomiz'd Even By The Squand'ring Glances Of The Fool.

He Thinks Too Much. Such Men Are Dangerous.

Hamlet: Is This A Prologue, Or The Posy Of A Ring? Ophelia: 'tis Brief, My Lord. Hamlet: As Woman's Love.

So Are You To My Thoughts As Food To Life, Or As Sweet Seasoned Showers Are To The Ground.

A Ministering Angel Shall My Sister Be.