She Shall Scant Show Well That Now

Milk-livered Man, That Bear'st A Cheek For Blows, A Head For Wrongs; Who Hast Not In Thy Brows An Eye Discerning Thine Honor From Thy Suffering; [that Not Know'st Fools Do Those Villains Pity Who Are Punished Ere They Have Done Their Mischief. Where's Thy Drum? France Spreads His Banners In Our Noiseless Land, With Plumed Helm Thy State Begins To Threat, Whilst Thou, A Moral Fool, Sits Still And Cries 'alack, Why Does He So?']

O, How Full Of Briers Is This Working-day World!

Women May Fail When There Is No Strength In Man

What's The News? None, My Lord, But That The World's Grown Honest, Then Is Doomsday Near.

Life... Is A Paradise To What We Know Of Death.