They Say Miracles Are Past.

O, A Kiss Long As My Exile, Sweet As My Revenge! Now, By The Jealous Queen Of Heaven, That Kiss I Carried From Thee, Dear, And My True Lip Hath Virgined It E'er Since.

Contention, Like A Horse, Full Of High Feeding, Madly Hath Broke Loose, And Bears Down All Before Him.

Extreme Fear Can Neither Fight Nor Fly.

For Honesty Coupled To Beauty, Is To Have Honey A Sauce To Sugar.

There's No Trust, No Faith, No Honesty In Men; All Perjured, All Forsworn, All Naught, All Dissemblers.