You Taught Me Language, And

Give Me Mine Angle, We'll To Th' River: There, My Music Playing Far Off, I Will Betray Tawny-finned Fishes. My Bended Hook Shall Pierce Their Slimy Jaws; And As I Draw Them Up, I'll Think Them Every One An Antony, And Say, 'ah, Ha! Are Caught!'

Commit The Oldest Sins The Newest Kind Of Ways.

That Is Honor's Scorn Which Challenges Itself As Honor's Born And Is Not Like The Sire. Honors Thrive When Rather From Our Acts We Them Derive Than Our Foregoers.

How Poor Are They That Have Not Patience! What Wound Did Ever Heal But By Degrees?

Why, There's A Wench! Come On, And Kiss Me, Kate.