The Bitter Clamor Of Two Eager Tongues.

What If This Cursed Hand Were Thicker Than Itself With Brother's Blood Is There Not Rain Enough In The Sweet Heaves To Wash It White As Snow?

A Devil, A Born Devil On Whose Nature, Nurture Can Never Stick, On Whom My Pain, Humanly Taken, All Lost, Quite Lost.

Some Men There Are Love Not A Gaping Pig, Some That Are Mad If They Behold A Cat, And Others When The Bagpipe Sings I The Nose Cannot Contain Their Urine.

There Is Nothing But Roguery To Be Found In Villainous Men.

A Heaven On Earth I Have Won By Wooing Thee.