Hang Those That Talk Of Fear.

Now All The Youth Of England Are On Fire, And Silken Dalliance In The Wardrobe Lies; Now Thrive The Armorers, And Honor's Thought Reigns Solely In The Breast Of Every Man.

For Conspiracy, I Know Not How It Tastes, Though It Be Dished For Me To Try How.

Kiss Me, Kate, We Shall Be Married O'sunday

Cordelia! Stay A Little. Ha! What Is't Thou Say'st? Her Voice Was Ever Soft.

If I Lose My Honor, I Lose Myself: Better I Were Not Yours Than Yours So Branchless.