Who Is It Can Read A Woman?

I Do Oppose My Patience To His Fury, And Am Arm'd To Suffer, With A Quietness Of Spirit, The Very Tyranny And Rage Of His.

There Is No Sure Foundation Set On Blood, No Certain Life Achieved By Others' Death.

Why, I Can Smile And Murder Whiles I Smile, And Cry 'content' To That Which Grieves My Heart, And Wet My Cheeks With Artificial Tears, And Frame My Face For All Occasions

Right Joyous Are We To Behold Your Face, Most Worthy Brother England; Fairly Met!

Ah Me, How Weak A Thing The Heart Of Woman Is!