Wait For The Season When To Cast

A Thousand Moral Paintings I Can Show That Shall Demonstrate These Quick Blows Of Fortune's More Pregnantly Than Words.

O You Beast! I'll So Maul You And Your Toasting-iron, That You Shall Think The Devil Is Come From Hell.

Who Can Be Patient In Extremes?

Away! Thou'rt Poison To My Blood.

An Habitation Giddy And Unsure Hath He That Buildeth On The Vulgar Heart.