A Cup Of Hot Wine With Not

Things Base And Vile, Holding No Quantity, Love Can Transpose To Form And Dignity

She's Good, Being Gone.

If I Had My Mouth, I Would Bite; If I Had My Liberty, I Would Do My Liking. In The Meantime, Let Me Be That I Am, And Seek Not Toalter Me.

Neither My Place, Nor Aught I Heard Of Business, Hath Raised Me From My Bed; Nor Doth The General Care Take Hold On Me; For My Particular Grief Is Of So Floodgate And O'erbearing Nature That It Engluts And Swallows Other Sorrows, And It Is Still Itself.

Remuneration! O! That's The Latin Word For Three Farthings