He That Will Have A Cake Out

Were I The Moor I Would Not Be Iago. In Following Him I Follow But Myself; Heaven Is My Judge, Not I For Love And Duty, But Seeming So For My Peculiar End. For When My Outward Action Doth Demonstrate The Native Act And Figure Of My Heart In Compliment Extern, ’tis Not Long After But I Will Wear My Heart Upon My Sleeve For Daws To Peck At. I Am Not What I Am

Dirty Days Hath September April June And November From January Up To May The Rain It Raineth Every Day All The Rest Have Thirty-one Without A Blessed Gleam Of Sun And If Any Of Them Had Two-and-thirty They'd Be Just As Wet And Twice As Dirty." "april Hath Put A Spirit Of Youth In Everything.

'tis Not Enough To Help The Feeble Up, But To Support Them After.

O, I Have Suffered With Those That I Saw Suffer! A Brave Vessel (who Had No Doubt Some Noble Creature In Her) Dashed All To Pieces! O, The Cry Did Knock Against My Very Heart! Poor Souls, They Perished!

They Have Been Grand-jurymen Since Before Noah Was A Sailor