Thou Shalt Not Stir One Foot To

How Many Fond Fools Serve Mad Jealousy!

My Heart Is Turned To Stone; I Strike It, And It Hurts My Hand.

I'll Privily Away; I Love The People, But Do Not Like To Stage Me To Their Eyes; Though It Do Well, I Do Not Relish Well Their Loud Applause And Aves Vehement, Nor Do I Think The Man Of Safe Discretion That Does Not Affect It.

What Showers Arise, Blown With The Windy Tempest Of My Heart

But Men Are Men; The Best Sometimes Forget.