You Speak An Infinite Deal Of Nothing.

To Be In Love, Where Scorn Is Bought With Groans; Coy Looks, With Heart-sore Sighs; One Fading Moment's Mirth

Kindness In Women, Not Their Beauteous Looks, Shall Win My Love.

Virtue Itself Turns Vice, Being Misapplied, And Vice Sometime By Action Dignified.

Though She Be But Little, She Is Fierce!

I Am A Jew: Hath Not A Jew Eyes? Hath Not A Jew Hands, Organs, Dimensions, Senses, Affections, Passions? Fed With Die Same Food, Hurt With The Same Weapons, Subject To The Same Diseases, Healed By The Same Means, Warmed And Cooled By The Same Winter And Summer, As A Christian Is?