How Strange Or Odd Some'er I Bear

Thou Art The Mars Of Malcontents.

Now Would I Give A Thousand Furlongs Of Sea For An Acre Of Barren Ground.

That You Were Once Unkind Befriends Me Now, And For That Sorrow, Which I Then Did Feel, Needs Must I Under My Transgression Bow, Unless My Nerves Were Brass Or Hammered Steel.

Drink, Sir, Is A Great Provoker Of Three Things . . . Nose-painting, Sleep, And Urine. Lechery, Sir, It Provokes, And Unprovokes; It Provokes The Desire, But It Takes Away The Performance.

Good Night, Good Night! Parting Is Such Sweet Sorrow, That I Shall Say Good Night Till It Be Morrow.