Out, You Tallow-face! You Baggage!

The Fashion Of The World Is To Avoid Cost, And You Encounter It.

On The Bat’s Back I Do Fly After Summer Merrily.

Love Is A Spirit All Compact Of Fire.

How Slow This Old Moon Wanes! She Lingers My Desires, Like To A Stepdame, Or A Dowager, Long Withering Out A Young Man's Revenue.

Not That I Loved Caesar Less, But That I Loved Rome More.