If All The Year Were Playing Holidays;

Most Dear Actors, Eat No Onions Nor Garlic, For We Are To Utter Sweet Breath.

All Pride Is Willing Pride.

My Falcon Now Is Sharp And Passing Empty, And Till She Stoop She Must Not Be Full-gorged, For Then She Never Looks Upon Her Lure.

For What I Will, I Will, And There An End.

Do Not Plunge Thyself Too Far In Anger.