What Else May Hap, To Time I

My Dull Brain Was Wrought With Things Forgotten.

If Love Be Blind, Love Cannot Hit The Mark

When Caesar Says, 'do This', It Is Performed.

It Is A Basilisk Unto Mine Eye, Kills Me To Look On't.

Fat Paunches Have Lean Pates, And Dainty Bits Make Rich The Ribs, But Backrout Quite The Wits.