If She Lives Till Doomsday, She'll Burn

The World Must Be Peopled!

They Do Not Abuse The King That Flatter Him. For Flattery Is The Bellows Blows Up Sin; The Thing The Which Is Flattered, But A Spark To Which That Blast Gives Heat And Stronger Glowing.

Though Yet Of Hamlet Our Dear Brother's Death The Memory Be Green.

Fair Youth, I Would I Could Make Thee Believe I Love.

O' Thinkest Thou We Shall Ever Meet Again? I Doubt It Not; And All These Woes Shall Serve For Sweet Discourses In Our Times To Come.