Art Made Tongue-tied By Authority.

O Madam, My Old Heart Is Cracked, It's Cracked!

The Loyalty, Well Held To Fools, Does Make Our Faith Mere Folly.

Give Me A Bowl Of Wine. I Have Not That Alacrity Of Spirit Nor Cheer Of Mind That I Was Wont To Have.

The Fashion Of The World Is To Avoid Cost, And You Encounter It.

Then Was I As A Tree Whose Boughs Did Bend With Fruit; But In One Night, A Storm Or Robbery, Call It What You Will, Shook Down My Mellow Hangings, Nay, My Leaves, And Left Me Bare To Weather.