Nay, I Am The Very Pink Of

He That Filches From Me My Good Name Robs Me Of That Which Enriches Him And Makes Me Poor Indeed.

He That Sleeps Feels Not The Tooth-ache

Th Abuse Of Greatness Is When It Disjoins Remorse From Power.

You Have Dancing Shoes With Nimble Soles. I Have A Soul Of Lead.

What? Do I Love Her, That I Desire To Hear Her Speak Again, And Feast Upon Her Eyes