I Pardon Him, As God Shall Pardon

For Never Was A Story Of More Woe Than This Of Juliet And Her Romeo.

O Call Not Me To Justify The Wrong, That Thy Unkindness Lays Upon My Heart, Wound Me Not With Thine Eye But With Thy Tongue, Use Power With Power, And Slay Me Not By Art.

He That Sleeps Feels Not The Tooth-ache

So May The Outward Shows Be Least Themselves; The World Is Still Deceived With Ornament.

If There Were Reason For These Miseries, Then Into Limits Could I Bind My Woes. If The Winds Rages, Doth Not The Sea Wax Mad, Threat'ning The Welkin With Its Big-swoll'n Face? And Wilt Though Have A Reason For This Coil? I Am The Sea. Hark How Her Sighs Doth Blow. She Is The Weeping Welkin, I The Earth.