Educated Men Are So Impressive.

For To Define True Madness, What Is't But To Be Nothing Else But Mad?

Ask Me No Reason Why I Love You; For Though Love Use Reason For His Physician, He Admits Him Not For His Counsellor.

We All Are Men, In Our Own Natures Frail, And Capable Of Our Flesh; Few Are Angels.

She Never Told Her Love, But Let Concealment, Like A Worm 'i Th' Bud, Feed On Her Damask Cheek. She Pinned In Thought; And, With A Green And Yellow Melancholy, She Sat Like Patience On A Monument, Smiling At Grief. Was Not This Love Indeed? We Men May Say More, Swear More; But Indeed Our Shows Are More Than Will; For We Still Prove Much In Our Vows But Little In Our Love.

Your Tale, Sir, Would Cure Deafness.