I Will Kill Thee A Hundred And

Be Merry; You Have Cause, So Have We All, Of Joy; For Our Escape Is Much Beyond Our Loss . . . . Then Wisely Weigh Our Sorrow With Our Comfort.

I Have No Other But A Woman's Reason: I Think Him So, Because I Think Him So.

Canst Thou, O Partial Sleep, Give Thy Repose To The Wet Sea-boy In An Hour So Rude, And In The Calmest And Most Stillest Night, With All Appliances And Means To Boot, Deny It To A King?

A Man May Fish With The Worm That Hath Eat Of A King, And Eat Of The Fish That Hath Fed Of That Worm

The Bitter Past, More Welcome Is The Sweet.