So Shalt Thou Feed On

For What Is Wedlock Forced But A Hell, An Age Of Discord And Continual Strife? Whereas The Contrary Bringeth Bliss, And Is A Pattern Of Celestial Peace.

Were I The Moor I Would Not Be Iago. In Following Him I Follow But Myself; Heaven Is My Judge, Not I For Love And Duty, But Seeming So For My Peculiar End. For When My Outward Action Doth Demonstrate The Native Act And Figure Of My Heart In Compliment Extern, ’tis Not Long After But I Will Wear My Heart Upon My Sleeve For Daws To Peck At. I Am Not What I Am

Unnatural Deeds Do Breed Unnatural Troubles.

For Never Was A Story Of More Woe Than This Of Juliet And Her Romeo.

A Cup Of Hot Wine With Not A Drop Of Allaying Tiber In 't.