'tis Best To Weigh The Enemy More

A Merry Heart Goes All The Way, - A Sad One Tires Inan Hour.

First Witch He Knows Thy Thought: Hear His Speech, But Say Thou Nought.

Love's Gentle Spring Doth Always Fresh Remain.

But, Soft! What Light Through Yonder Window Breaks? It Is The East, And Juliet Is The Sun. Arise, Fair Sun, And Kill The Envious Moon, Who Is Already Sick And Pale With Grief, That Thou, Her Maid, Art Far More Fair Than She. Be Not Her Maid, Since She Is Envious; Her Vestal Livery Is But Sick And Green And None But Fools Do Wear It; Cast It Off. It Is My Lady, O, It Is My Love! Oh, That She Knew She Were!

I See A Woman May Be Made A Fool, If She Had Not A Spirit To Resist.