Foul Deeds Will Rise, Though All The

...and Then, In Dreaming, / The Clouds Methought Would Open And Show Riches / Ready To Drop Upon Me, That When I Waked / I Cried To Dream Again.

The Native Hue Of Resolution Is Sicklied O'er With The Pale Cast Of Thought; And Enterprises Of Great Pitch And Moment, With This Regard, Their Currents Turn Awry, And Lose The Name Of Action.

We Must Be Brief When Traitors Brave The Field.

My Stars Shine Darkly Over Me

The Sweat Of Industry Would Dry And Die, But For The End It Works To.