A Woman's Thought Runs Before

Hamlet: Lady, Shall I Lie In Your Lap? Ophelia: No, My Lord. Hamlet: Did You Think I Meant Country Matters? Ophelia: I Think Nothing, My Lord. Hamlet: That's A Fair Thought To Lie Between Maids' Legs. Ophelia: What Is, My Lord? Hamlet: Nothing.

But Here's The Joy: My Friend And I Are One, Sweet Flattery!

Time, That Takes Survey Of All The World, Must Have A Stop.

Robust Grass Endures Mighty Winds; Loyal Ministers Emerge Through Ordeal.

My Brain More Busy Than The Labouring Spider Weaves Tedious Snares To Trap Mine Enemies.