And now for something completely different... Not from Shakespeare, but pretty darn old.

The Lying Valet, by David Garrick.

Oh woman, woman, foolish woman! she'll certainly have this Gayless: nay, were she as well convinced of his poverty as I am she'have him. A strong dose of love is worse than one of ratafia; when it once gets into our heads, it trips up our heels and then, good night to discretion. Here is she going to throw away fifteen thousand pounds; upon what? faith, little better than nothing-he's man and that's all-and heaven knows mere man is but small consolation.

Be this advice pursued by each fond maid.
Ne'er slight the substance for an empty shade:
Rich, weighty sparks alone should please and charm ye:
For should spouse cool, his gold will always warm ye.

Camilla, by Madeleine L'Engle

Frank was not going to come.

I went down to Ninth Street. I did not want to go, looking for Frank after he had left me waiting without a word, but I could not help myself.

The door to the apartment was open and Louisa stood there.

"Where's Frank?" "He's gone," Louisa said. "Gone?" "With Bill. To Cincinatti. They left this morning." "Oh." I said. I stood there unable to move, until Louisa said, "Here. Frank told me to give this to you."

I took the letter without saying anything. "Camilla, " it said, " I'm going with Bill to Cincinatti. So, that's that. I can't say goodbye to you. Do you know why? You'll just have to know. I can't write what I feel either. You'll just have to know that too. Love, Frank"

I wend over to the window. A single bright wtar was throbbing against the blackness. I did not wish on it, because at that particular moment there wans't anything left to wish. I held Frank's letter in my hand and knew that I would always have it to look at and to keep, and now I did not have to try and forget him. And I would not have to cry.

There Jeff, what do you think of that one?