O thou dissembling cub! what wilt thou be
When time hath sow'd a grizzle on thy case?
Or will not else thy craft so quickly grow,
That thine own trip shall be thine overthrow?
Farewell, and take her; but direct thy feet
Where thou and I henceforth may never meet.

“O then, dear saint, let lips do what hands do:They pray: grant thou, lest faith…”

“Good; and what of him?ALEXANDERThey say he is a very man per se,And stands alon…”

“I do love nothing in the world so well as you- is not that strange?”

“if you can't walk this pathway; it does not mean that there is no other pathto …”