I Will Kill Thee A Hundred And

Like A Barber's Chair That Fits All Buttocks.

I Beseech You, Wrest Once The Law To Your Authority: To Do A Great Right, Do A Little Wrong.

If You Love An Addle Egg As Well As You Love An Idle Head, You Would Eat Chickens I' Th' Shell.

Then Was I As A Tree Whose Boughs Did Bend With Fruit; But In One Night, A Storm Or Robbery, Call It What You Will, Shook Down My Mellow Hangings, Nay, My Leaves, And Left Me Bare To Weather.

I Have Been Long A Sleeper; But I Trust My Absence Doth Neglect No Great Design Which By My Presence Might Have Been Concluded.