The Sands Are Number'd That Make Up

Sweet Beatrice, Wouldst Thou Come When I Called Thee? Beatrice Yea, Signior, And Depart When You Bid Me. Benedick O, Stay But Till Then! Beatrice 'then' Is Spoken; Fare You Well Now... (much Ado About Nothing)

Every Man Has Business And Desire, Such As It Is.

What? Do I Love Her, That I Desire To Hear Her Speak Again, And Feast Upon Her Eyes

Who Alone Suffers Suffers Most I' Th' Mind, Leaving Free Things And Happy Shows Behind; But Then The Mind Much Sufferance Doth O'erskip When Grief Hath Mates, And Bearing Fellowship.

You Had Measured How Long A Fool You Were Upon The Ground.