The Arms Are Fair, When The Intent

For What Good Turn? Messenger: For The Best Turn Of The Bed.

A Maiden Hath No Tongue--but Thought.

Sin From Thy Lips? O Trespass Sweetly Urged! Give Me My Sin Again.

A Sentence Is But A Cheveril Glove To A Good Wit; How Quickly The Wrong Side May Be Turned Outward!

The Course Of True Love Never Did Run Smooth.