Words, Words, Mere Words, No Matter From

Besides, They Are Our Outward Consciences, And Preachers To Us All, Admonishing That We Should Drew Us Fairly For Our End.

And Why Not Death Rather Than Living Torment? To Die Is To Be Banish'd From Myself; And Silvia Is Myself: Banish'd From Her Is Self From Self: A Deadly Banishment!

We Must Be Gentle Now We Are Gentlemen.

To Mingle Friendship Far Is Mingling Bloods.

Many Can Brook The Weather That Love Not The Wind.