Men From Children Nothing Differ.

We Must Take The Current When It Serves, Or Lose Our Ventures.

The Deep Of Night Is Crept Upon Our Talk, And Nature Must Obey Necessity.

For They Are Yet Ear-kissing Arguments.

O, A Kiss Long As My Exile, Sweet As My Revenge! Now, By The Jealous Queen Of Heaven, That Kiss I Carried From Thee, Dear, And My True Lip Hath Virgined It E'er Since.

I Am Wealthy In My Friends.