Nature Does Require Her Times Of Preservation.

Two Women Placed Together Makes Cold Weather.

The Worm Is Not To Be Trusted.

Yet Do I Fear Thy Nature; It Is Too Full O' The Milk Of Human Kindness.

But, Soft! What Light Through Yonder Window Breaks? It Is The East, And Juliet Is The Sun. Arise, Fair Sun, And Kill The Envious Moon, Who Is Already Sick And Pale With Grief, That Thou, Her Maid, Art Far More Fair Than She. Be Not Her Maid, Since She Is Envious; Her Vestal Livery Is But Sick And Green And None But Fools Do Wear It; Cast It Off. It Is My Lady, O, It Is My Love! Oh, That She Knew She Were!

The Sense Of Death Is Most In Apprehension.