Some Cupid Kills With Arrows,

These Cardinals Trifle With Me; I Abhor; This Dilatory Sloth And Tricks Of Rome.

O, The Difference Of Man And Man! To Thee A Woman's Services Are Due.

Who Has A Book Of All That Monarchs Do, He's More Secure To Keep It Shut Than Shown; For Vice Repeated Is Like The Wand'ring Wind, Blows Dust In Others' Eye, To Spread Itself; And Yet The End Of All Is Bought Thus Dear, The Breath Is Gone, And The Sore Eyes See Clear To Stop The Air Would Hurt Them.

Jaques: Rosalind Is Your Love's Name? Orlando: Yes, Just. Jaques: I Do Not Like Her Name. Orlando: There Was No Thought Of Pleasing You When She Was Christened.

To This Urn Let Those Repair That Are Either True Or Fair; For These Dead Birds Sigh A Prayer.