All The World Is A Stage And

O For A Horse With Wings!

For My Part, I May Speak It To My Shame, I Have A Truant Been To Chivalry; And So I Hear He Doth Account Me Too.

What Made Me Love Thee? Let That Persuade Thee, There's Something Extraordinary In Thee

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

To Loathe The Taste Of Sweetness, Whereof Little More Than A Little Is By Much Too Much.