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Pardon, Gentles All, The Flat Unraised Spirits That Have Dared On This Unworthy Scaffold To Bring Forth So Great An Object.

-William Shakespeare

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Pardon, Gentles All, The

William Shakespeare

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Pardon, Gentles All, The Flat Unraised Spirits That Have Dared On This Unworthy Scaffold To Bring Forth So Great An Object.

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I Would There Were No Age Between Sixteen And Three-and-twenty, Or That Youth Would Sleep Out The Rest; For There Is Nothing In The Between But Getting Wenches With Child, Wronging The Ancientry, Stealing, Fighting

Put Money In Thy Purse.

Speak, My Fair, And Fairly, I Pray Thee.

It Is As Easy To Count Atomies As To Resolve The Propositions Of A Lover.

Et Tu Brute! (you Too, Brutus!)

Every Man Has Business And Desire, Such As It Is.

Her Passions Are Made Of Nothing But The Finest Part Of Pure Love

The Third Day Comes A Frost, A Killing Frost.

Fruits That Blossom First Will First Be Ripe.

Where Shall We Three Meet Again In Thunder, Lightning, Or In Rain? When The Hurlyburly 's Done, When The Battle 's Lost And Won

Shall I Compare Thee To A Summer's Day?

Yet, Do Thy Worst, Old Time; Despite Thy Wrong, My Love Shall In My Verse Ever Live Young.

I Have Ventured, Like Little Wanton Boys That Swim On Bladders, This Many Summers In A Sea Of Glory, But Far Beyond My Depth. My High-blown Pride At Length Broke Under Me, And Now Has Left Me, Weary And Old With Service, To The Mercy Of A Rude Stream That Must For Ever Hide Me.

So Full Of Artless Jealousy Is Guilt, It Spills Itself In Fearing To Be Spilt.

Behold The Threaden Sails, Borne With The Invisible And Creeping Wind, Draw The Huge Bottoms Through The Furrow'd Sea, Breasting The Lofty Surge

Hamlet: Is This A Prologue, Or The Posy Of A Ring? Ophelia: 'tis Brief, My Lord. Hamlet: As Woman's Love.

Hamlet And Ophelia

O Teach Me How I Should Forget To Think (1.1.224)

Now I Will Believe That There Are Unicorns.

Cry "havoc!" And Let Loose The Dogs Of War, That This Foul Deed Shall Smell Above The Earth With Carrion Men, Groaning For Burial.

Let Me Twine Mine Arms About That Body, Where Against My Grained Ash An Hundred Times Hath Broke And Scarr'd The Moon With Splinters: Here I Clip The Anvil Of My Sword, And Do Contest As Hotly And As Nobly With Thy Love As Ever In Ambitious Strength I Did Contend Against Thy Valour. Know Thou First, I Loved The Maid I Married; Never Man Sigh'd Truer Breath; But That I See Thee Here, Thou Noble Thing! More Dances My Rapt Heart Than When I First My Wedded Mistress Saw Bestride My Threshold.

The Heavenly-harness'd Team Begins His Golden Progress In The East.

Who Can Be Wise, Amazed, Temperate And Furious, Loyal And Neutral, In A Moment? No Man.

O Mistress Mine, Where Are You Roaming? O, Stay And Hear; Your True Love's Coming, That Can Sing Both High And Low: Trip No Further, Pretty Sweeting; Journeys End In Lovers Meeting, Every Wise Man's Son Doth Know. What Is Love? 'tis Not Hereafter; Present Mirth Hath Present Laughter; What's To Come Is Still Unsure: In Delay There Lies Not Plenty; Then, Come Kiss Me, Sweet And Twenty, Youth's A Stuff Will Not Endure.

The Last Taste Of Sweets Is Sweetest Last.

You Must Confine Yourself Within The Modest Limits Of Order.

Talkers Are No Good Doers.

When Holy And Devout Religious Men Are At Their Beads, 'tis Hard To Draw Them Thence; So Sweet Is Zealous Contemplation.

Thou Ominous And Fearful Owl Of Death.

They Have Been At A Great Feast Of Languages, And Stolen The Scraps.

To Sue To Live, I Find I Seek To Die; And, Seeking Death, Find Life: Let It Come On.

The Bashful Virgin's Sidelong Looks Of Love, The Matron's Glance That Would Those Looks Reprove.

Within The Hollow Crown That Rounds The Mortal Temples Of A King Keeps Death His Court.

I Am A Kind Of Burr; I Shall Stick.

He Jests At Scars That Never Felt A Wound.

Wounds And Scars

Romeo And Juliet Love

Let The End Try The Man.

Civil Dissension Is A Viperous Worm That Gnaws The Bowels Of The Commonwealth.

'tis Thought The King Is Dead; We Will Not Stay. The Bay Trees In Our Country Are All Wither'd.

Thou Shalt Be Free As Mountain Winds: But Then Exactly Do All Points Of My Command.

I Had Rather Eleven Died Nobly For Their Country Than One Voluptuously Surfeit Out Of Action.

Farewell The Plumed Troop, And The Big Wars That Make Ambition Virtue! O, Farewell! Farewell The Neighing Steed And The Shrill Trump, The Spirit-stirring Drum, Th' Ear-piercing Fife, The Royal Banner, And All Quality, Pride, Pomp, And Circumstance Of Glorious War!

I Have Very Poor And Unhappy Brains For Drinking.

Myself Will Straight Aboard, And To The State This Heavy Act With Heavy Heart Relate.

Besides, Our Nearness To The King In Love Is Near The Hate Of Those Love Not The King.

O, How Full Of Briers Is This Working-day World!

One Whom The Music Of His Own Vain Tongue Doth Ravish Like Enchanting Harmony.

How Well He's Read, To Reason Against Reading!

Ay, In The Catalogue Ye Go For Men; As Hounds, And Greyhounds, Mongrels, Spaniels, Curs, Shoughs, Water-rugs, And Demi-wolves, Are 'clept All By The Name Of Dogs: The Valued File Distinguishes The Swift, The Slow, The Subtle, The Housekeeper, The Hunter, Every One According To The Gift Which Bounteous Nature Hath In Him Closed.

O, Call Back Yesterday, Bid Time Return

. . . It Is Impossible You Should Take True Root But By The Fair Weather That You Make Yourself It Is Needful That You Frame The Season Of Your Own Harvest.

Is He On His Horse? O Happy Horse, To Bear The Weight Of Antony!

All Is Well Ended, If The Suit Be Won.

When Once Our Grace We Have Forgot, Nothing Goes Right.

Measure For Measure

Oft Expectation Fails, And Most Oft There Where Most It Promises; And Oft It Hits Where Hope Is Coldest, And Despair Most Fits.

Keeping Promises

Not An Angel Of The Air, Bird Melodious Or Bird Fair, Be Absent Hence!

In The Modesty Of Fearful Duty, I Read As Much As From The Rattling Tongue Of Saucy And Audacious Eloquence.

There Are Many Events In The Womb Of Time Which Will Be Delivered.

If You Can Look Into The Seeds Of Time, And Say Which Grain Will Grow And Which Will Not, Speak Then Unto Me.

I Have Set My Life Upon A Cast, And I Will Stand The Hazard Of The Die.

Two Loves I Have, Of Comfort And Despair, Which Like Two Spirits Do Suggest Me Still: The Better Angel Is A Man Right Fair, The Worser Spirit A Woman Coloured Ill.

Our Wills And Fates Do So Contrary Run.

I Will Through And Through Cleanse The Foul Body Of Th' Infected World, If They Will Patiently Receive My Medicine.

To Fear The Foe, Since Fear Oppresseth Strength, Gives In Your Weakness Strength Unto Your Foe.

Let Them Obey That Knows Not How To Rule.

All's Well That Ends Well; Still The Fine's The Crown. Whate'er The Course, The End Is The Renown.

And Simple Truth Miscalled Simplicity

Ruin Has Taught Me To Ruminate, That Time Will Come And Take My Love Away. This Thought Is As A Death, Which Cannot Choose But Weep To Have That Which It Fears To Lose.

Good Hamlet, Cast Thy Nighted Colour Off ... Do Not For Ever With Thy Vailed Lids Seek For Thy Noble Father In The Dust.

Their Lips Were Four Red Roses On A Stalk.

My Purpose Is, Indeed, A Horse Of That Color.

What Sadness Lengthens Romeo’s Hours?

Romeo And Juliet Love

But It Is A Melancholy Of Mine Own, Compounded Of Many Simples, Extracted From Many Objects, And Indeed The Sundry Contemplation Of My Travels, Which, By Often Rumination, Wraps Me In The Most Humorous Sadness.

I Am Misanthropos, And Hate Mankind, For Thy Part, I Do Wish Thou Wert A Dog, That I Might Love Thee Something.

Out Of My Sight! Thou Dost Infect Mine Eyes.

Because It Is A Customary Cross, As Die To Love As Thoughts, And Dreams, And Sighs, Wishes, And Tears, Poor Fancy's Followers.

Now, God Be Praised, That To Believing Souls Gives Light In Darkness, Comfort In Despair.

O Helena, Goddess, Nymph, Perfect, Divine! To What, My Love, Shall I Compare Thine Eyne? Crystal Is Muddy. O, How Ripe In Show Thy Lips, Those Kissing Cherries, Tempting Grow!

The Gallantry Of His Grief Did Put Me Into A Towering Passion.

For What Is Wedlock Forced But A Hell, An Age Of Discord And Continual Strife? Whereas The Contrary Bringeth Bliss, And Is A Pattern Of Celestial Peace.

Take All The Swift Advantage Of The Hours.

Bad Is The Trade That Must Play Fool To Sorrow, Ang'ring Itself And Others.

To Be In Anger Is Impiety, But Who Is Man That Is Not Angry?

When Law Can Do No Right, Let It Be Lawful That Law Bar No Wrong.

Faith, Stay Here This Night; They Will Surely Do Us No Harm; You Saw They Speak Us Fair, Give Us Gold; Methinks They Are Such A Gentle Nation That, But For The Mountain Of Mad Flesh That Claims Marriage Of Me, Could Find In My Heart To Stay Here Still And Turn Witch.

I Will Instruct My Sorrows To Be Proud; For Grief Is Proud, And Makes His Owner Stoop.

O Jest Unseen, Inscrutable, Invisible, As A Nose On A Man's Face, Or A Weathercock On A Steeple.

Thus Sometimes Hath The Brightest Day A Cloud; And After Summer Evermore Succeeds Barren Winter, With His Wrathful Nipping Cold: So Cares And Joys Abound, As Seasons Fleet.

Press Not A Falling Man Too Far; 'tis Virtue: His Faults Lie Open To The Laws; Let Them, Not You, Correct Him.

Love Is Heavy And Light, Bright And Dark, Hot And Cold, Sick And Healthy, Asleep And Awake- Its Everything Except What It Is! (act 1, Scene 1)

April ... Hath Put A Spirit Of Youth In Everything.

The Sense Of Death Is Most In Apprehension.

Measure For Measure

O Judgment ! Thou Art Fled To Brutish Beasts, And Men Have Lost Their Reason !

Oh What Fools We Mortals Are.

Did He So Often Lodge In Open Field, In Winter's Cold And Summer's Parching Heat, To Conquer France, His True Inheritance?

What Wouldst Thou Do, Old Man? Think'st Thou That Duty Shall Have Dread To Speak When Power To Flattery Bows?

In Thy Foul Throat Thou Liest.

But I Am Constant As The Northern Star, Of Whose True Fixed And Resting Quality There Is No Fellow In The Firmament.

Smooth Runs The Water Where The Brook Is Deep.

Lovers And Madmen Have Such Seething Brains Such Shaping Fantasies, That Apprehend More Than Cool Reason Ever Comprehends.

Mine Eyes Are Full Of Tears, My Heart Of Grief.

O, That Our Fathers Would Applause Our Loves, To Seal Our Happiness With Hteir Consents!

Live Loath'd And Long, Most Smiling, Smooth, Detested Parasites, Courteous Destroyers, Affable Wolves, Meek Bears, You Fools Of Fortune, Trencher Friends, Time Flies Cap And Knee Slaves, Vapors, And Minute Jacks.

I, Thus Neglecting Worldly Ends, All Dedicated To Closeness And The Bettering Of My Mind.

And A Man's Life's No More Than To Say "one."

She Speaks Poniards, And Every Word Stabs: If Her Breath Were As Terrible As Her Terminations, There Were No Living Near Her; She Would Infect To The North Star. I Would Not Marry Her, Though She Were Endowed With All That Adam Bad Left Him Before He Transgressed.

Love Moderately. Long Love Doth So. Too Swift Arrives As Tardy As Too Slow. *love Each Other In Moderation. That Is The Key To Long-lasting Love. Too Fast Is As Bad As Too Slow.*

A Very Little Little Let Us Do And All Is Done.

We Know What We Are, But Know Not What We May Be.

When I Got Enough Confidence, The Stage Was Gone. When I Was Sure Of Losing, I Won. When I Needed People The Most, They Left Me. When I Learnt To Dry My Tears, I Found A Shoulder To Cry On. And When I Mastered The Art Of Hating, Somebody Started Loving Me.

Thou Shouldst Not Have Been Old Till Thou Hadst Been Wise.

Come Away, Come Away, Death, And In Sad Cypress Let Me Be Laid; Fly Away, Fly Away, Breath, I Am Slain By A Fair Cruel Maid. My Shroud Of White Stuck All With Yew, O Prepare It! My Part Of Death No One So True Did Share It. Not A Flower, Not A Flower Sweet, On My Black Coffin Let There Be Strewn: Not A Friend, Not A Friend Greet My Poor Corpse, Where My Bones Shall Be Thrown. A Thousand Thousand Sighs To Save, Lay Me O Where Sad True Lover Never Find My Grave, To Weep There!

If Money Go Before, All Ways Do Lie Open.

What Should A Man Do But Be Merry? For Look You How Cheerfully My Mother Looks, And My Father Died Within's Two Hours.

I...kisss The Tender Inward Of Thy Hand.

Fairest Cordelia, That Art Most Rich, Being Poor; Most Choice, Forsaken; And Most Loved, Despised! Thee And Thy Virtues Here I Seize Upon: Be It Lawful I Take Up What's Cast Away. Gods, Gods! 'tis Strange That From Their Cold'st Neglect My Love Should Kindle To Inflamed Respect. Thy Dowerless Daughter, King, Thrown To My Chance, Is Queen Of Us, Of Ours, And Our Fair France: Not All The Dukes Of Waterish Burgundy Can Buy This Unprized Precious Maid Of Me. Bid Them Farewell, Cordelia, Though Unkind: Thou Losest Here, A Better Where To Find.

I Love A Ballad In Print O' Life, For Then We Are Sure They Are True.

She Says I Am Not Fair, That I Lack Manners; She Calls Me Proud, And That She Could Not Love Me, Were Man As Rare As Phoenix.

I'll Not Meddle With It; It Is A Dangerous Thing; It Makes A Man A Coward; A Man Cannot Steal, But It Accuseth Him; A Man Cannot Swear, But It Checks Him; A Man Cannot Lie With His Neighbor's Wife, But It Detects Him. 'tis A Blushing, Shame -faced Spirit, That Mutinies In A Man's Bosom ; It Fills One Full Of Obstacles; It Made Me Once Restore A Purse Of Gold That By Chance I Found; It Beggars Any Man That Keeps It; It Is Turned Out Of All Towns And Cities For A Dangerous Thing; And Every Man That Means To Live Well Endeavors To Trust To Himself And Live Without It.

Ingratitude Is Monstrous; And For The Multitude To Be Ingrateful Were To Make A Monster Of The Multitude; Of Which We Being Members, Should Bring Ourselves To Be Monstrous Members.

To-morrow, And To-morrow, And To-morrow, Creeps In This Petty Pace From Day To Day, To The Last Syllable Of Recorded Time; And All Our Yesterdays Have Lighted Fools The Way To Dusty Death. Out, Out, Brief Candle! Life's But A Walking Shadow, A Poor Player, That Struts And Frets His Hour Upon The Stage, And Then Is Heard No More. It Is A Tale Told By An Idiot, Full Of Sound And Fury, Signifying Nothing.

Since Brass, Nor Stone, Nor Earth, Nor Boundless Sea, But Bad Mortality O'ersways Their Power, How With This Rage Shall Beauty Hold A Plea, Whose Action Is No Stronger Than A Flower?

The Apprehension Of The Good Gives But The Greater Feeling To The Worse.

Drink, Sir, Is A Great Provoker Of Three Things . . . Nose-painting, Sleep, And Urine. Lechery, Sir, It Provokes, And Unprovokes; It Provokes The Desire, But It Takes Away The Performance.

I Have Heard It Said There Is An Art Which In Their Piedness Shares With Great Creating Nature.

The Thane Of Cawdor Lives, A Prosperous Gentleman; And To Be King Stands Not Within The Prospect Of Belief, No More Than To Be Cawdor.

May Never Glorious Sun Reflex His Beams Upon The Country Where You Make Abode! But Darkness And The Gloomy Shade Of Death Environ You Till Mischief And Despair Drive You To Break Your Necks Or Hang Yourselves.

As A Decrepit Father Takes Delight To See His Active Child Do Deeds Of Youth, So I, Made Lame By Fortune's Dearest Spite, Take All My Comfort Of Thy Worth And Truth.

I Understand Thy Kisses, And Thou Mine, And That's A Feeling Disputation.

A Man Can Die But Once.

Love Is A Wonderful, Terrible Thing

Were I The Moor I Would Not Be Iago. In Following Him I Follow But Myself; Heaven Is My Judge, Not I For Love And Duty, But Seeming So For My Peculiar End. For When My Outward Action Doth Demonstrate The Native Act And Figure Of My Heart In Compliment Extern, ’tis Not Long After But I Will Wear My Heart Upon My Sleeve For Daws To Peck At. I Am Not What I Am

Fair, Kind, And True, Have Often Lived Alone.

No Profit Grows Where No Pleasure Is Taken.

O For A Muse Of Fire, That Would Ascend The Brightest Heaven Of Invention, A Kingdom For A Stage, Princes To Act And Monarchs To Behold The Swelling Scene!

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

Speak The Speech, I Pray You, As I Pronounc'd It To You, Trippingly On The Tongue.

The Benediction Of These Covering Heavens Fall On Their Heads Like Dew, For They Are Worthy To Inlay Heaven With Stars.

Adieu, Adieu, Adieu! Remember Me.

Fear Not, Cesario, Take Thy Fortunes Up. Be That Thou Know'st Thou Art And Then Thou Art As Great As That Thou Fear'st.

The Labor We Delight In Physics [cures] Pain.

O Momentary Grace Of Mortal Men, Which We More Hunt For Than The Grace Of God!

What Can Be Happier Than For A Man, Conscious Of Virtuous Acts, And Content With Liberty, To Despise All Human Affairs?

Men's Evil Manners Live In Brass; Their Virtues We Write In Water.

They Met So Near With Their Lips That Their Breaths Embraced Together.

Memory, The Warder Of The Brain.

If I Must Die, I Will Encounter Darkness As A Bride, And Hug It In Mine Arms.

Thou Whoreson Zed! Thou Unnecessary Letter!

Ne'er Ask Me What Raiment I'll Wear, For I Have No More Doublets Than Backs, No More Stockings Than Legs, Nor No More Shoes Than Feet--nay, Sometime More Feet Than Shoes, Or Such Shoes As My Toes Look Through The Overleather.

Our Purses Shall Be Proud, Our Garments Poor; For 'tis The Mind That Makes The Body Rich

Farewell! God Knows When We Shall Meet Again.

They Are But Beggars That Can Count Their Worth.

No, I Will Be The Pattern Of All Patience; I Will Say Nothing.

Thus Weary Of The World, Away She Hies, And Yokes Her Silver Doves; By Whose Swift Aid Their Mistress Mounted Through The Empty Skies In Her Light Chariot Quickly Is Convey'd; Holding Their Course To Paphos, Where Their Queen Means To Immure Herself And Not Be Seen.

When Rich Villains Have Need Of Poor Ones, Poor Ones May Make What Price They Will

There Was Never Yet Philosopher That Could Endure The Toothache Patiently

You Are A Tedious Fool.

Alas, Sir, How Fell You Besides Your Five Wits?" Malvolio: "fool, There Was Never A Man So Notoriously Abused. I Am As Well In My Wits, Fool, As Thou Art." Feste: "but As Well? Then You Are Mad Indeed, If You Be No Better In You Wits Than A Fool.

Like As The Waves Make Towards The Pebbled Shore, So Do Our Minutes Hasten To Their End; Each Changing Place With That Which Goes Before, In Sequent Toil All Forwards Do Contend.

Security Is The Chief Enemy Of Mortals.

Safety And Security

The Summer's Flow'r Is To The Summer Sweet, Though To Itself It Only Live And Die' But If That Flow'r With Base Infection Meet, The Basest Weed Outbraves His Dignity: For Sweetest Things Turn Sourest By Their Deeds; Lilies That Fester Smell Far Worse Than Weeds.

Nature Does Require Her Time Of Preservation, Which Perforce, I Her Frail Son Amongst My Brethren Mortal, Must Give My Attendance To.

You Blocks, You Stones, You Worse Than Senseless Things!

No Longer Mourn For Me When I Am Dead Than You Shall Hear The Surly Sullen Bell Give Warning To The World That I Am Fled From This Vile World With Vilest Worms To Dwell: Nay, If You Read This Line, Remember Not The Hand That Writ It, For I Love You So, That I In Your Sweet Thoughts Would Be Forgot, If Thinking On Me Then Should Make You Woe. O! If, I Say, You Look Upon This Verse When I Perhaps Compounded Am With Clay, Do Not So Much As My Poor Name Rehearse; But Let Your Love Even With My Life Decay; Lest The Wise World Should Look Into Your Moan, And Mock You With Me After I Am Gone.

The Devil Hath Power To Assume A Pleasing Shape.

Virtue's Office Never Breaks Men's Troth.

Were't Not For Laughing, I Should Pity Him.

I See, Sir, You Are Liberal In Offers. You Taught Me First To Beg, And Now Methinks You Teach Me How A Beggar Should Be Answered.

Benvolio- "by My Head, Here Come The Capulets." Mercutio- "by My Heel, I Care Not.

One Pain Is Lessened By Another's Anguish.

God Send Everyone Their Heart's Desire!

There's Not The Smallest Orb Which Thou Behold'st But In His Motion Like An Angel Sings.

Yet This My Comfort: When Your Words Are Done, My Woes End Likewise With The Evening Sun.

What We Determine We Often Break. Purpose Is But The Slave To Memory.

I Do Know Of These That Therefore Only Are Reputed Wise For Saying Nothing.

The Bird That Hath Been Limed In A Bush, With Trembling Wings Misdoubteth Every Bush.

Or Art Thou But / A Dagger Of The Mind, A False Creation, / Proceeding From The Heat-oppressed Brain?

Many A Man's Tongue Shakes Out His Master's Undoing.

What's In A Name? That Which We Call A Rose By Any Other Name Would Smell As Sweet.

For Man Is A Giddy Thing, And This Is My Conclusion.

Extremity Is The Trier Of Spirits.

Alack, There Lies More Peril In Thine Eye Than Twenty Of Their Swords: Look Thou But Sweet, And I Am Proof Against Their Enmity.

Then Know, That I Have Little Wealth To Lose. A Man I Am, Crossed With Adversity; My Riches Are These Poor Habiliments, Of Which If You Should Here Disfurnish Me, You Take The Sum And Substance That I Have.

Sweet Flowers Are Slow And Weeds Make Haste.

The Breaking Of So Great A Thing Should Make A Greater Crack: The Round World Should Have Shook Lions Into Civil Streets, And Citizens To Their Dens.

Know My Name Is Lost, By Treason's Tooth Bare-gnawn And Canker-bit; Yet Am I Noble As The Adversary I Come To Cope.

O, Wonder! How Many Goodly Creatures Are There Here! How Beauteous Mankind Is! O Brave New World, That Has Such People In't!

Brave New World

O My Good Lord, That Comfort Comes Too Late, 'tis Like A Pardon After Execution. That Gentle Physic, Given In Time, Had Cured Me; But Now I Am Past All Comforts Here But Prayers.

No .... Holy Father, Throw Away That Thought. Believe Not That The Dribbling Dart Of Love Can Pierce A Complete Bosom.

How Slow This Old Moon Wanes! She Lingers My Desires, Like To A Stepdame, Or A Dowager, Long Withering Out A Young Man's Revenue.

A Maiden Hath No Tongue--but Thought.

There Is Some Soul Of Goodness In Things Evil, Would Men Observingly Distill It Out.

Let Me Say Amen Betimes Lest The Devil Cross My Prayer, For Here He Comes In The Likeness Of A Jew.

What Should Such Fellows As I Do Crawling Between Earth And Heaven?

Hamlet And Ophelia

O, What Men Dare Do! What Men May Do! What Men Daily Do, Not Knowing What They Do.

You Take My House When You Do Take The Prop That Doth Sustain My House; You Take My Life When You Do Take The Means Whereby I Live.

Patch Grief With Proverbs.

Farewell! A Long Farewell To All My Greatness!

For Grief Is Crowned With Consolation.

I Am Not Of That Feather, To Shake Off My Friend When He Must Need Me

Thou Art An Elm, My Husband, I A Vine.

I Count Myself In Nothing Else So Happy As In A Soul Remembering My Good Friends

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