Thou Weedy Elf-skinned Canker-blossom!

My Love Is Thine To Teach; Teach It But How, And Thou Shalt See How Apt It Is To Learn. Any Hard Lesson That May Do Thee Good.

I Am Bewitched With The Rogue's Company. If The Rascal Have Not Given Me Medicines To Make Me Love Him, I'll Be Hanged.

Tis In Ourselves That We Are Thus Or Thus. Our Bodies Are Our Gardens To The Which Our Wills Are Gardeners.

My Thought, Whose Murder Yet Is But Fantastical, Shakes So My Single State Of Man That Function Is Smothered In Surmise, And Nothing Is But What Is Not.

A Man Can Die But Once.