I Pardon Him, As God Shall Pardon

A Pair Of Star-crossed Lovers.

I Am Wealthy In My Friends.

In Religion, What Damned Error But Some Sober Brow Will Bless It, And Approve It With A Text, Hiding The Grossness With Fair Ornament?

To Be, Or Not To Be, That Is The Question.

Devoutly To Be Wish'd. To Die, To Sleep; To Sleep, Perchance To Dream—for In That Sleep Of Death What Dreams May Come,when We Have Shuffled Off This Mortal Coil, Must Give Us Pause, There's The Respect, That Makes Calamity Of So Long Life