Women Speak Two Languages - One Of

Great Floods Have Flown From Simple Sources.

But No Perfection Is So Absolute, That Some Impurity Doth Not Pollute.

I Love Thee, I Love Thee With A Love That Shall Not Die. Till The Sun Grows Cold And The Stars Grow Old.

So Loving To My Mother, That He Might Not Beteem The Winds Of Heaven, Visit Her Face' Too Roughly.

Of All Base Passions, Fear Is The Most Accursed.