It Hurts Not The Tongue To Give

How Many A Holy And Obsequious Tear Hath Dear Religious Love Stolen From Mine Eye, As Interest Of The Dead!

What Infinite Heart's-ease Must Kings Neglect That Private Men Enjoy! And What Have Kings That Privates Have Not Too, Save Ceremony, Save General Ceremony?

As He Was Valiant, I Honour Him. But As He Was Ambitious, I Slew Him.

If She Lives Till Doomsday, She'll Burn A Week Longer Than The Whole World.

Free From Gross Passion Or Of Mirth Of Anger Constant Spirit, Not Swerving With The Blood, Garnish'd And Deck'd In Modest Compliment, Not Working With The Eye Without The Ear, And But In Purged Judgement Trusting Neither? Such And So Finely Bolted Didst Thou Seem.