How Now, Wit! Whither Wander You?

But Men Are Men; The Best Sometimes Forget.

A Pair Of Star-crossed Lovers.

Yet Do I Fear Thy Nature; It Is Too Full O' The Milk Of Human Kindness To Catch The Nearest Way: Thou Wouldst Be Great; Art Not Without Ambition, But Without The Illness Should Attend It: What Thou Wouldst Highly, That Wouldst Thou Holily; Wouldst Not Play False, And Yet Wouldst Wrongly Win.

This Thought Is As A Death.

Rude Am I In My Speech, And Little Blessed With The Soft Phrase Of Peace.