None Can Cure Their Harms By Wailing

Lord, I Could Not Endure A Husband With A Beard On His Face! I Had Rather Lie In The Woolen.

Adieu! I Have Too Grieved A Heart To Take A Tedious Leave.

I Am Afeard There Are Few Die Well That Die In Battle, For How Can They Charitably Dispose Of Anything When Blood Is Their Argument?

Our Remedies Oft In Ourselves Do Lie, Which We Ascribe To Heaven.

So Quick Bright Things Come To Confusion.??????