Past All Shame, So Past All Truth.

There's Little Of The Melancholy Element In Her, My Lord: She Is Never Sad But When She Sleeps; And Not Ever Sad Then; For I Have Heard My Daughter Say, She Hath Often Dreamt Of Unhappiness, And Waked Herself With Laughing.

You Know That Love Will Creep In Service Where It Cannot Go.

I Can Hardly Forbear Hurling Things At Him.

Romans, Countrymen, And Lovers, Hear Me For My Cause, And Be Silent, That You May Hear.

By Jove, I Am Not Covetous For Gold, Nor Care I Who Doth Feed Upon My Cost; It Yearns Me Not If Me My Garments Wear; Such Outward Things Dwell Not In My Desires: But If It Be A Sin To Covet Honor, I Am The Most Offending Soul Alive.