Most Dear Actors, Eat No Onions Nor

The Law Hath Not Been Dead, Though It Hath Slept.

Thy Best Of Rest Is Sleep, And That Thou Oft Provok'st; Yet Grossly Fear'st Thy Death, Which Is No More.

Men Should Be What They Seem.

O, Then, What Graces In My Love Do Dwell, That He Hath Turn'd A Heaven Unto Hell

She's Gone. I Am Abused, And My Relief Must Be To Loathe Her.