When Great Leaves Fall, The Winter Is

Thus Hath The Candle Sing'd The Moth. O These Deliberate Fools!

I Loved Ophelia. Forty Thousand Brothers Could Not, With All Their Quantity Of Love, Make Up My Sum.

Romans, Countrymen, And Lovers, Hear Me For My Cause, And Be Silent, That You May Hear.

A Man Should Be What He Seems.

Now, Neighbor Confines, Purge You Of Your Scum! Have You A Ruffian That Will Swear, Drink, Dance, Revel The Night, Rob, Murder, And Commit The Oldest Sins The Newest Kind Of Ways?