This Thought Is As A

O, Spirit Of Love, How Quick And Fresh Art Thou!

A Goodly Portly Man, I' Faith, And A Corpulent; Of A Cheerful Look, A Pleasing Eye, And A Most Noble Carriage; And, As I Think, His Age Some Fifty, Or, By'r Lady, Inclining To Threescore; And Now I Remember Me, His Name Is Falstaff.

You Great Benefactors, Sprinkle Our Society With Thankfulness. For Your Own Gifts, Make Yourselves Praised.

The Web Of Our Life Is Of A Mingled Yarn, Good And Ill Together.

More Can I Bear Than You Dare Execute.