Come, Lady, Die To Live.

A Jest's Prosperity Lies In The Ear Of Him That Hears It, Never In The Tongue Of Him That Makes It.

All The World's A Stage, And All The Men And Women Merely Players: They Have Their Exits And Their Entrances; And One Man In His Time Plays Many Parts, His Acts Being Seven Ages.

Weariness Can Snore Upon The Flint When Resting Sloth Finds The Down Pillow Hard.

Who Is Silvia What Is She, That All Our Swains Commend Her Holy, Fair, And Wise Is She.

In Thee Thy Mother Dies, Our Household's Name, My Death's Revenge, Thy Youth, And England's Fame.