A Maiden Hath No Tongue--but Thought.

Past And To Come, Seems Best; Things Present, Worse.

I 'gin To Be Aweary Of The Sun, And Wish Th' Estate O' Th' World Were Now Undone.

The Ides Of March Are Come. Soothsayer: Ay, Caesar; But Not Gone.

I Heard A Bird So Sing, Whose Music, To My Thinking, Pleased The King.

Let Gentleness My Strong Enforcement Be.