We Must Every One Be A Man

But, Soft! What Light Through Yonder Window Breaks? It Is The East, And Juliet Is The Sun.

What: Is The Jay More Precious Than The Lark Because His Feathers Are More Beautiful?

Demand Me Nothing: What You Know, You Know.

How Sweet The Moonlight Sleeps Upon This Bank! Here Will We Sit, And Let The Sounds Of Music Creep In Our Ears; Soft Stillness And The Night Become The Touches Of Sweet Harmony. Sit, Jessica: Look, How The Floor Of Heaven Is Thick Inlaid With Patines Of Bright Gold; There's Not The Smallest Orb Which Thou Behold'st But In His Motion Like An Angel Sings, Still Quiring To The Young-eyed Cherubins. Such Harmony Is In Immortal Souls; But Whilst This Muddy Vesture Of Decay Doth Grossly Close It In, We Cannot Hear It.

You Cannot Make Gross Sins Look Clear: To Revenge Is No Valour, But To Bear.